


An Android Awakened

by anenome



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Action/Adventure, F/M, Friends to Enemies back to Friends Again to Lovers, Happily Ever After, Humor, POV Alternating, Pining, Romance, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sweet/Hot, This Kiss Was Only Supposed To Be For Subterfuge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 69,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anenome/pseuds/anenome
Summary: A Prickly WitchGrieving her brother’s death and thrust into the role of untested Avenger, Wanda wants nothing more than to bury her painful past and prove herself as a hero. As she warms to her new team, she finds an unexpected confidant in Vision. Her life seems to be finally back on track until one fateful day in Lagos she makes the worst mistake of her life, setting the Avengers on the path to civil war.An Artless AndroidGuilty over his role in her imprisonment on the Raft, Vision yearns to find Wanda again and repair their friendship. He just doesn’t know how. But when Vision discovers Wanda’s life is in danger, he rushes to save her, knowing this might be his last chance to earn her forgiveness.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 55
Kudos: 107





	1. An Ill-Received Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> This passion project, a year+ in the making, combines my two great loves: superheroes and romance novels. The story weaves threads from Age of Ultron, Civil War, and Black Panther to bring these two adorable weirdos together and give them the happily ever after they deserve (temporary though it may be T_T).

> ✧ <

_steady me  
be my source of gravity   
while my world’s unraveling_

> ✧ <

Guess I’ll die here. The thought came to Wanda as her body began to float up, the falling city reaching terminal velocity around her. 

Her brother was dead. The last of her family. The other half of her self. She was alone in the world now. There was nothing keeping her here.

At least she had gotten to rip out whatever passed for Ultron’s heart in her last moments. Not that killing the mad robot would undo what he had wrought. What he had done to her brother.

Pietro. She'd lived every second of his death. She felt the echo of those shells pierce his back as if they embedded in her own. She felt the moment his life winked out, as a quick and quiet as a breath. 

He left her with a soul ripped in two.

She was the one who told him to leave her. Go assist with evacuation, she said. If only she had kept him near, where she could protect him. But she had to prove she could handle protecting the key all on her own. What an arrogant fool.

And her brother no better. The last time she saw him alive, he threw a cocky smirk her way. Teasing her about their age difference like he had a thousand times. Like they were back home squabbling over whose turn it was to make dinner, not standing in a battlefield, the fate of the planet balancing on a knife's edge.

Wanda pictured him with her parents, standing together, waiting for her in some gleaming place. She had never been a believer in any faith, but she couldn’t help hoping desperately that she might see them again. 

But what if this was all there is? As another wave of fear and grief crashed over her, she almost didn’t feel the hand at her back. 

She turned back sharply, wondering who had remembered her. 

She gazed, wide-eyed, into the face of Vision. Ultron’s perfect body, turned against him by the Avengers. Before she could beg him to leave her there, he pulled her into his arms, neatly tucking her against him. She dug her nails into his shoulder, but didn't push him away, half furious, half relieved. As quickly as he arrived, he shot them into the sky.

She turned her face against his chest, shielding herself against the wind and the sight of the city of Novi Grad plummeting back to earth. He felt unexpectedly warm. His grip was strong, holding her safe despite the speed at which they moved. He gave no sign he felt her painful grip.

She wished he would keep going up and up. Take her through atmosphere and deliver her into the darkness of space. Let her body drift away, growing colder and colder until it no longer hurt.

He did no such thing. Banking left, he flew towards a sparse forest at the edge of the city’s crater. He landed with precise control, carefully setting her down on the ground. She took in the clearing bordered by a handful of bare trees. The edge of the crater lay a few yards away. The gash in the earth looked wrong. Her mind couldn’t accept that a bustling city had been there mere hours before.

“Are you injured?” he asked softly, expression gentle. As if he understood her raw grief. She wanted to smack the doe-eyed look off his face. She also wanted to lie face-down in the dirt.

“Shouldn’t have wasted your time on me,” she said stonily. 

He frowned in dismay and said nothing. She supposed he didn’t have an algorithm generating a handy answer for this particular situation.

Then Vision's head tilted slightly, alerted by something.

“An Ultron unit remains. I must take care of him. Will you stay here?” he asked uneasily, stepping into a hover to take off.

Anger shot through her; a helpless, desolate anger. She hadn’t even managed to kill Ultron. She hadn’t even properly avenged her brother. She stomped away from Vision, too choked with fury to speak. Her fists clenched uselessly at her sides.

Hearing no response, Vision grimaced. He looked towards the forest across the crater, then back at her.

“Please stay here,” he said finally. With that decree, he flew off, the whipping snap of his cape quickly lost to the wind. 

She stared into the distance after him, across the yawning gap of earth. All at once, her exhaustion caught up with her. Her legs buckled. She rested her chin between her knees, shivering arms wrapped around her shins. 

She watched the falling city explode in the sky with a deafening sound. She hastily threw up a barrier as hunks of earth fell towards her. The earth shook, but it held. 

They had done it. The city was destroyed and the day was saved.

Her brother was a hero. But he was still dead.

In the quiet that followed she could no longer stave off her imagination as it played the moment of Pietro’s death over and over. The trees stood silent watch over her as her choked sobs echoed throughout the clearing. 

She wasn’t sure which was worse: remembering his painful death or imagining her future without him. She couldn’t survive in a world where Pietro was dead. She never knew life without him. They had always been inseparable, even more so since their parents died. He was the only one who knew her, who understood why she’d agreed to become a monster, who always bought the perfect birthday gift for her every year. She touched the pendant at her throat. Now she was all alone. The thought set off a fresh hiccuping sob.

After some time she subsided. Though all she wanted to do was wallow, her practical side told her she needed a plan. But she didn’t know what to do. She could run. Disappear into a small town in a bordering country. Bewitch anyone who got suspicious. Start over and pretend like none of this had ever happened.

Or she could stay. Try to reform herself as a superhero, absurd as the idea might have seemed mere days ago. After hating them for so long, it felt like whiplash to suddenly be working side by side with the Avengers. She couldn't believe they actually trusted her, first a creature of Hydra, then Ultron’s pawn. Maybe this convenient alliance would end after the battle, with her shipped off to some containment facility. 

Maybe she and Pietro had been brought along as cannon fodder. A convenient death had been their fate all along.

But she would have known if that was their plan. She had read their earnest intentions. Clint would stick up for her, at least. She could join the team and save people, like she always wanted. After all, when she and Pietro had first decided to volunteer for the experiments, that had been their ultimate goal: to become strong enough to fight for those who couldn’t defend themselves. No more war-made orphans if they could help it. 

They lost sight of that goal, as they fought to survive the experiments and learn their new abilities. But she was ready now. Ready to do good, if only someone would trust her to do it.

That is, if the Avengers would still take her. She did fail to defend the key. Her one job.

Run or stay. Her only options at this point.

She couldn't leave Pietro behind. That decided it.

Wanda was seated with her legs dangling over the edge of the crater when Natasha found her in the rapidly fading light. The spy sat by her side without a word.

Without glancing up, Wanda felt the sense of loss in the other woman, parallel to her own. The big green one had abandoned them, she read in Natasha's memories. And Natasha blamed herself. 

Wanda’s heart ached with the weight of two sorrows. She remembered she was not completely alone. 

“Wanda, I’m so sorry about your brother,” Natasha said in a low voice.

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to reply. Night had fallen and the temperature with it. Her aching body shivered. Natasha’s arm came sweeping up behind her to squeeze her close. The warmth of the gesture, from barely more than a stranger, made Wanda want to weep again. She stared resolutely forward.

“I’m here for you. Whatever you need. We’ll get back to HQ and start making arrangements. So, you ready?”

“No,” she croaked, but she took Natasha’s proffered hand anyway. 

> ✧ <

The atmosphere was heavy in the Quinjet. Silent but for the roar of the engines. Vision used the moment of calm to take stock of his team. In the cockpit, Ms. Romanov and Mr. Barton appeared to be in serious discussion. Meanwhile, his creator, Mr. Stark, paced about with nervous energy, eyes scanning behind his glasses as he read whatever was displayed on the lenses. Most likely the latest news as it broke the events of the day. The man couldn’t rest, even now.

Mr. Rogers was strapped in directly across from Vision, eyes closed, wisely catching up on sleep. Ms. Maximoff sat beside the captain. She stared blankly at the floor with hooded eyes. Vision was glad Ms. Romanov had been able to find her at the coordinates he had communicated. A small part of him had worried Ms. Maximoff would run away after he left. Or do something far worse.

The small window showed dark blue, the first blush of sunrise appearing in the sky. Hours had passed since they had left the battlefield. They must be nearing their destination.

Vision couldn’t help glancing back at Ms. Maximoff. While everyone bore bruises from the day and signs of fatigue, she looked the worst off. Her lovely dark hair hung lank about her face and streaks of dark gray ran down her cheeks. She shivered occasionally. He ticked off the symptoms of shock and decided she didn’t quite fit the diagnosis. She was simply suffering from exhaustion and heartbreak. She needed rest and time. Hopefully she would get the former soon.

He felt uncomfortable at the sight of her deeply felt pain. He wondered his own reaction. He constantly felt the urge, almost a compulsion, to fix things. Since his birth barely a day ago, with Ultron wreaking havoc and progressing towards his goal of global genocide, it had been easy to prioritize what needed fixing. First things first, the world. Everything else came after.

It had been easy to act decisively, until it hadn’t. After he saved Ms. Maximoff and realized Ultron was still out there, he felt a moment of hesitation. Here was his teammate in obvious distress. She had all but said she wanted to die. It felt wrong to abandon her in that moment. But Ultron needed to be destroyed.

In the end he had to take the obvious course of action, the one that would do the most good. Save the world, he rationalized, then save Wanda. If he still could.

Thankfully Ms. Romanov found her where he left her. So now he had a second chance to help her. But he couldn’t imagine how. He couldn’t bring her brother back. He couldn’t even think of words to honor her brother's memory - he’d barely known the boy. Anything he might say would sound like an empty platitude. Nor could he make time proceed faster so that the pain might fade sooner. He felt useless. 

He did not enjoy the feeling.

“Nice work today, Astro Boy,” came Mr. Stark’s voice, breaking through Vision’s reverie. Vision brow furrowed for a second, filing the reference away in his ever-growing list of things Mr. Stark said that made no sense.

“Thank you, sir. It heartens me to know my first mission with the Avengers was a success,” Vision responded, glad for the distraction from his unhappy thoughts.

“And thank you for not going terminator on me and proving everyone right,” Tony said with a wry smile. That reference Vision understood, having thoroughly researched human depictions of artificial intelligence during his initial forays into trying to understand the reason for his existence.

“Certainly, sir,” he replied to play along. He had quickly discovered that mirroring the other's attitude made for more effective communication. Mr. Stark blinked and the corner of his mouth kicked up in what Vision decided to categorize as a smile.

“Wow, you sounded just like Jarvis there. A little weird. How about just Stark? Or Tony?” Mr. Stark said, shaking his head.

Vision nodded. "Yes, I can refer to you as Mr. Stark." Some level of formality felt right. He was not sure why.

Stark shrugged. Silence stretched between them. Vision felt a strange urge to fill it.

"It was simpler back then, I imagine, though I can’t precisely recall. Jarvis answered queries, found practical solutions to problems. All things finite, safely encapsulated within the framework of software. There was only success or error, nothing in between,” he mused aloud. “Yet in the world it’s different. Today we resolved one global crisis at the cost of great collateral damage and loss of life. Does that suffering negate what we accomplished? Were we truly successful?” He was still coming to terms with the messiness of this world into which he had been thrust.

Mr. Stark didn’t respond for a moment, rubbing his beard in thought.

“I'm sure there will be a lot of people with a lot of opinions on just that question. And they'll let us know. All I know is, job’s never done. Can't think of it like an equation. It’ll never balance out. We just have to keep trying to tip the scales toward a better world. And try to come to terms with that in healthier ways than building murder bots,” he answered, the last sentence muttered under his breath. He puffed out his cheeks and blew out a breath before throwing Vision a wink and proceeding with his pacing.

Mulling over Mr. Stark’s words, Vision looked towards Ms. Maximoff again. She had slumped to the side, overcome by exhaustion at last. In sleep she looked so young. He may have saved her life, but he hadn’t stood by her. He felt ashamed. But Mr. Stark was right, their job was never done. He could still help her. They were both alone in this world, but they didn’t have to be. He’d show her.

> ✧ <

The alarm blared, jolting Wanda from the deep sleep that she had only just settled into. For a sliver of a moment, on the edge of sleep, she wished Pietro would shut off the damn thing already.

Then she woke up. She shoved down the tight feeling that arose.

She set about dressing for morning training, going through the motions automatically in her half-awake state. Already, being an Avenger was just another set of routines. They were nearly as regimented as HYDRA. Wake up, train, break for lunch, train some more, team bonding over dinner, rinse, repeat.

The repetition made the first month pass by in a blur as she transitioned into her new life as an Avenger. There was so much to do: settling into her new room, learning her way around the base, training under Steve and Nat alongside the other new members.

She was still appalled that the team trusted her. Just a short time ago, she had brought most of the original members to their breaking points. Only Steve and Nat appeared to have moved on, acting as if nothing had happened (or else, as she suspected, enacting a more subtle revenge through punishing training exercises). Meanwhile Stark tried to charm her with his particular brand of wit, but his efforts were thwarted by his palpable aura of wariness towards her. Luckily she didn't have to deal with Banner. She doubted he would ever forgive her. 

At least she hadn’t given Sam or Rhodey any personal reasons to hate her. And Vision didn’t seem to have the capacity to hate anything. 

Still she hated the nagging feeling that she didn’t quite belong. She wasn’t sure which was worse, that they might tolerate her out of pity or to keep an eye on her. She just wanted to prove to them she could be a dependable member of the team. So she threw herself into training. Every day brought a new obstacle course or challenge devised to stress-test her abilities. And every day she struggled her way through a workout regimen designed to strengthen every muscle in her body until her physical attacks were as lethal as her magical ones. 

It was exhausting, overwhelmingly so at times. But she didn't mind. The sheer physical and mental fatigue kept her nightmares at bay. 

Wanda spotted Vision waiting for her in his accustomed spot by the doors leading to the fields. 

"Hey, Vis," she greeted as she stepped through the door he opened.

"Wanda," he responded with a polite incline of his head. She'd finally gotten him to stop calling her Ms. Maximoff.

They walked out to meet Steve and Nat, as they did every morning since the first day of training. That morning, Wanda had just been about to leave her room when Vision phased right through the wall.

She had yelped, embarrassingly loud.

"My apologies for startling you," he began, like he'd just bumped into her in the hall.

"What are you doing? Use the door!"

After shooing him out of her room, through the door this time, she locked it behind her and turned to him with crossed arms.

"Well, what do you want?" She knew she was being rude but he'd startled her on what was already a nerve-wracking morning. First day of training, first time to prove herself.

“Would you like to walk to training together this morning?”

“What?”

“On the way, I thought we could learn more about each other outside the structure of meetings and training. We could make small talk, as they say.”

She squinted at him. He was so weird.

Vision was something of a mystery to her, though she trusted her reading of his peaceful intentions on their first meeting. She was still surprised the other Avengers had abruptly decided to trust him without the benefit of psychic proof. All he had to do was pick up a fancy hammer and he had them practically eating out of the palm of his hand. 

“Why?”

He cleared his throat. “A cohesive team requires a high-level of trust, and trust must be built upon strong lines of communication and personal familiarity. I am hoping to find an activity we might both enjoy, that we may become closer as colleagues, or even friends,” he explained. “Sam, for example, has been teaching me to play pool,” he added in a hopeful tone.

“Ok,” Wanda said noncommittally, the skeptical expression lingering on her face.

The friendship overture was an interesting development. She hoped he wasn’t too determined. She liked to keep to herself. 

That first walk passed, as promised, in awkward small talk. Wanda found it mildly excruciating, although she did find his accent rather nice to hear. So refined, like that of a prince in a period piece. Still she half-hoped he would leave her be the next day. But Vision proved persistent. He came the next day, and the day after that. And so Wanda came to accept him as a fixture of her morning.

The day promised to be cool but sunny. Wanda relished the cold air, letting it wake her tired body.

“A month already. Do you feel settled in yet?” Vision asked. He always kicked off their walks with a question. Wanda half-suspected he was working his way down some list he stored somewhere in his brain’s hard-drive (or whatever he had up there).

“Fine. I have everything I need,” she replied. 

“It must be strange, suddenly moving to this new country. I’ve heard culture shock befalls newcomers, though you seem to have adapted well,” he commented, undeterred by her terseness.

That might be true if she had moved to a real American city. But a compound was a compound, in her experience. Avengers HQ was just a shinier and more airy version HYDRA's facilities. With better coffee machines.

“The food is different. Not bad though,” she said with a shrug.

“Is there anything you miss from home?”

“Paprikash.” The answer came to her without thinking.

It had been their favorite food growing up. It was a staple in their mother’s weeknight recipe rotation. She remembered sitting at the table with her family, laughing at Pietro. He had tried to eat too soon, not even blowing on his spoonful, and the face he made when he burnt his tongue had her in stitches. Her mother smothered a laugh as her father fondly admonished him not to be in such a rush all the time. Such a banal moment, she was surprised she remembered it at all.

But of course she would. It was the last memory she had of her whole family alive together.

“Wanda.”

She started. She had fallen a step behind. She glanced up at his face. It was such an unexpected color: the same burgundy shade as an old knit blanket adorning her childhood bed. And his eyes, blue as a cloudless sky. She read the sympathy in them and stiffened. 

“Where did you go just now?” he asked quietly.

“Nowhere. Just remembered something,” she muttered as she resumed walking. An awkward silence settled between them.

“It must be hard, being so far from home,” he said at length, speaking as if with great care. Like he was tiptoeing towards a sleeping bear of a subject.

"It's not that," she snapped. It unnerved her that the android could read her so easily. She didn't want to talk about it. Not with anyone.

So she kept quiet. She hoped he wouldn't push and make her lose her temper. That tended to happen much more quickly of late. 

But he didn’t.

“I thought I heard guitar music coming from your room the other night while I was washing dishes,” he said, gracefully retreating to safer subjects.

She had to give him credit. For all the times he asked something innocuous that made her clam up, he never forced the issue.

“I’ve been trying to learn how to play,” she replied. She ducked her head so he wouldn't see her blush. She hadn't known he was listening to her fumbling attempts. Playing music absorbed her attention enough that she became less aware of nearby minds.

“It was quite lovely. May I come listen to you play sometime?”

“Uh, maybe,” she said with a rueful smile. Definitely not.

They had almost arrived at the farthest field where today's training would take place when Vision seemed to remember something.

“Are you looking forward to the ‘Happy Hour’ this coming Friday?" He made exaggerated air quotes for emphasis. She wondered who he learned that gesture from. 

“What happy hour?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And what’s with the air quotes? I know what it means.”

“Oh, Happy mentioned it at a meeting last week. I assumed the term was some invention of his. Anyway, it will be some sort of celebration to thank the staff for all their hard work moving our operations from the tower to this facility.”

“Sounds exhausting,” she replied brusquely. A thoughtful expression came over her face. “Then again, free drinks…”

She trailed off as she spotted the training setup for the day. Steve stood next to a pitching machine, brimming with neon green softballs. Nat was next to him, a paintball gun dangling loosely from her hand.

"Today we'll be working on your reflexes," Steve said jovially. Nat grinned like a cat. Wanda felt only dread.

> ✧ <

On a Saturday afternoon a couple weeks later, Wanda went for a run around the track. Mile after mile, she pushed herself through the fatigue. All she could hear was the sound of her panting breaths and the thud of her heartbeat. Her mind emptied. 

On the third mile, rain began to sprinkle. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. But she didn’t want to stop yet. She wanted to run on and on until she collapsed and slept for three days straight.

Her nightmares had returned with a vengeance. 

It was all thanks to their trip to New York City a few days ago. The whole team flew down for a press conference to officially announce her and the other new recruits. She stood on the steps of the old Avengers tower, grimaced her way through a photoshoot, and, just like that, she was an official Avenger.

Nothing terrible happened on the trip. No alien attacks or super villain threats. It was a rather enjoyable interlude. The team got lunch at a beloved shawarma shop. Nat and the Barton family whisked her away on a whirlwind bus tour of the city's most famous sights. She spent an entire day in the Met and MoMA, the only teammate with the patience to stay with Vision as he surveyed each and every artwork like it held the meaning of life.

Nonetheless her time in the densely populated took its toll. Strange dreams and nightmares had always been the price she paid for the use of her mind-reading powers. Her psychic brain processed not only her personal experiences at night, but also the thoughts of the people she passively read throughout the day. So after just a days spent in the city, soaking in the anxieties of thousands of people, her subconscious overflowed with unprocessed fear that had a single outlet: Her dreams.

Some nights, she saw her brother die. She saw her parents vanish before her eyes under a ton of debris. The other HYDRA test subjects, bodies curling in agony. All while she stood frozen, a helpless observer wrapped tight by invisible bonds.

Other nights, it was Ultron. His eyes gleamed in the darkness, whispering words she couldn’t make out. The stroke of a metal finger caressing her cheek like a knife. Her mind kept dredging up his visions of apocalypse from the dark vault into which she'd shoved them. They wove in and out of each other. Last night, the dream began with her searching for Pietro in a wasteland devastated by nuclear winter. Then she heard the rushing of water coming in as a flood of biblical proportions swept her up. 

She woke just before she drowned.

Training was her only distraction. Though the sleepless nights were making her sloppy and the frequent target of Nat’s sharp criticism. She had to do better if she wanted to stay. She had nowhere else to go.

“Wanda!” She heard Vision call out behind her. She'd been so deep in her own thoughts that she startled, whipping her head back in his direction. As she did so, she skidded in the slick mud. She landed on her ass in the mud with a loud slap. 

Vision was there crouching by her side in an instant. “I’m terribly sorry for surprising you! Are you alright?” he asked, his aura pulsing with concern. 

“I’m fine,” she huffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She was cold, wet, and splattered with mud. All at once the soreness of her overworked muscles and growling empty stomach caught up with her. 

“I was worried when I didn’t see you at lunch.”

“I just went for a run.”

“You were gone for quite some time.”

“I was just here. No need to worry.”

The concern in his face did not abate. 

“You’re shaking. Maybe I should escort you to the clinic.” He stood and reached out a hand. 

She didn't take it, instead rising to a stand on her own. 

“I’m _fine_.” She couldn’t keep the sharpness from her tone this time.

He gazed at her. She sensed his exasperation and her simmering irritation flared in response. 

“Wanda,” he began, then stopped, searching for the right words. “I do worry. This can’t be easy for you. I want to help in any way I can.”

He looked so earnest in that moment, she couldn’t bear it. He spoke like he knew exactly why she was running. Like he knew exactly what she struggled with. His tone sounded dangerously close to pity. It grated on her.

“Vis, you can’t fix me. I know you’re trying but just, stop. I'm fine.”

His brows furrowed. “I’m not trying to fix you.”

“You are. I know you’re keeping an eye on me, going out of your way to talk with me, trying to get me to open up and have some emotional breakthrough. It’s not going to happen.” 

He didn’t respond, perhaps surprised by how easily she’d seen through him. What did he expect? She was psychic. 

“I'll be fine, okay?” she repeated.

He sighed. “But you don’t have to bear everything alone. You could talk to me. Or a more qualified professional.”

She scoffed. “Vision, therapy won’t work on me. I’d hear everything they're thinking.”

“Perhaps I could guide you in the practice of meditation? I’ve found it to be a valu- ”

“No,” she cut him off. He wasn’t listening. The lecture only stoked her anger. He was just offering solutions that sounded so easy. But she knew they wouldn’t work. “I’m handling it, ok? You need to stay out of it.” 

“I don’t understand why you are pushing me away. I am only trying to be your friend,” Vision implored. She didn’t need psychic powers to read the pain in his eyes. So now she was the bad guy?

“Look, I can’t be your emotional guinea pig,” she hissed. 

His brows furrowed in consternation. “I don’t even know what that means!”

“Just leave me alone,” she said, enunciating each word. 

She turned away and left him. Looking back only once, she saw him standing in the same spot. Soaked completely by the rain.

> ✧ <

“Get up, I’ve got a dress for you to try on,” Nat announced as she waltzed into Wanda’s room, something black and sparkly clasped in the crook of her arm. Wanda, sitting on the edge of her bed with her guitar on her lap, barely glanced up at the other woman before returning her attention back to her music.

“Not going,” she mumbled, eyes darting back and forth between the sheet music in front of her and her finger placement on the guitar strings. 

“Sorry, kid, you are. You need to stop hiding in your room. Plus we gotta keep up team morale,” Nat responded impatiently. 

Wanda suppressed a wince. She had certainly done a number of one member’s morale yesterday. Of course, her anger had faded as quickly as it came, leaving behind only shame at her outburst. She knew Vision was only trying to help. She certainly proved his point by lashing out.

After hanging the garment on a hook next to Wanda’s wardrobe mirror, Nat strode over and picked up the music stand to move it aside. 

“Hey!” Wanda cried petulantly.

Nat gave her a look that brooked no argument. The one that left mob bosses and Avengers alike quaking in their boots. Wanda sighed, a little dramatically, and went to place her instrument gingerly on its stand. 

Half an hour later, as she stood staring at a speck on the wall, trapped in a group of chattering agents exchanging small talk, Wanda sincerely regretted her decision. Taking a sip of the cocktail clenched in her hand, she grimaced. The drinks weren’t even strong.

She half-listened to the conversation around her, trying to add “mm”s and “aah”s when appropriate. She was distracted by the effort not to eavesdrop on their minds. In this crowd of people, there were so many unguarded thoughts, whispers that cut through even roar of conversation. She tried to tune them out, but it required concentration. 

Half the agents were as bored as she was, daydreaming about going home to watch TV or read in a bathtub or just lay down in bed. The other half were getting tipsy and starting to find certain coworkers newly attractive. One agent was thoroughly enjoying the low neckline on the dress of a colleague who ordinarily favored turtlenecks. It really shouldn't shock her by now how much people thought about boobs. And multiple people were eyeing the Avengers as they mingled about the room. Imagining skin-tight suits falling to the floor, the powerful bodies underneath them.

Wanda shuddered and promptly shut her mind off to the fantasies. She definitely did not need to see what people imagined Vision's dick and balls looked like. If only she could relax and enjoy herself, unplagued by others' sexual fantasies. She spotted Nat nearby. The redhead was smirking at Sam as he gestured emphatically, while by his side Rhodey shook his head. Meanwhile Steve was on the other side of the room, holding court with a quartet of older agents. 

She spotted Stark plying the stone-faced Happy with a drink. Vision looked on uncomfortably, inwardly debating if he should intervene. The android must have felt Wanda’s gaze on him, all the way from across the room, because at that moment he looked up at her and smiled. She mustered a wry quirk of the lips in return. 

A pang of guilt clanged in Wanda. Did that smile mean all was forgiven? She’d assumed she’d scared him off for good. She tried to refocus on the conversation she was supposed to be participating in.

Only to realize that her little conversation circle was mildly terrified of her. Their anxious thoughts batted her.   
_Why does she look so intense?_ _Is she glaring at me, what did I say, well, whatever, fuck her!_ _She's just standing there silently, so unsettling, is she reading our minds..._

Time to flee. “I’m going to get another drink,” she said with a tight smile and a nod at the group.

She made for the bar and ordered a vodka shot.

“Having a good time?” Vision asked, suddenly appearing at her side.

She couldn’t muster a bullshit answer. Snatching up her freshly poured drink, she shot it, set the glass on the counter, and replied, “Yep.”

Vision blinked. “I see. Don’t people usually do those together as a social ritual?”

“Usually. Want to do one with me?” She was genuinely curious if he would.

“Ah, no. As a lethal weapon it would be gravely irresponsible of me to lose control of my faculties for mere self-indulgence,” he responded in a matter-of-fact tone.

Wanda shrugged and flagged the bartender down to order another drink. Turning back with something pink and fruity in hand, she found Vision gazing down at her with unnerving focus. She scrambled for something to say.

“Sorry for yelling at you the other day.” Might as well get that off her chest.

"No, I should apologize. It was my blunder."

Wanda didn't want him to blame himself. He shouldn't feel bad for being one of the few people in the world to give a shit about her. But it felt like too real of a thing to say amidst the forced laughs of this bullshit corporate happy hour.

She was saved from coming up with a response when her powers picked up on the low murmur of a toneless recitation of a sequence of numbers.

“Why are you thinking about math right now?” 

He ran a finger along one eyebrow and looked down, the human gesture at odds with his words. “Ah, you’ve caught me. I’m running data analysis on armed robberies by enhanced individuals that have taken place in the past three month within the United States.” 

At her slow blink, he explained, “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone. My AI was programmed with a strong sense of curiosity, so strong, in face, that I tend to run background processes like this in order to feel… engaged. Rather like fidgeting with a pen the way you do in meetings.” She blinked again, surprised he’d noticed. “I find it especially comforting in overwhelming social situations like this,” he admitted.

She nodded. Oddly, listening to it helped clear her mind, like a white noise drowning out the cacophony of thoughts around her. 

So he was feeling out of place too, she realized with a jolt. She had always assumed Vision to be as imperturbable as he looked. Maybe they both needed to jail break.

Surprising herself, she said, “Vision, I think we’ve done our time. Want to head up and watch a movie instead?”

“Yes, I would love to.”

His enthusiastic grin made her heart unclench ever so slightly. 

> ✧ <

_i've been, for some time_   
_looking for someone_   
_i need to know now_   
_please tell me who i am_

> ✧ <


	2. An Important Lesson

> ✧ <

_what would i do without your smart mouth_   
_drawing me in, and you kicking me out_   
_you've got my head spinning, no kidding, i can't pin you down_

> ✧ <

Approximately two weeks following the happy hour, Vision and Wanda were lounging together in the common room on a rare afternoon off from training. Vision sat in an easy chair with a hefty tome on art history that was proving decidedly difficult to pay attention to. Stretched out on the couch next to him, Wanda flipped through a fashion magazine.

Vision felt quietly content. Social time spent with Mr. Stark was always filled with animated discussion on all kinds of practical topics, from Vision himself, new improvements to the iron suit, the global disaster of the week. Vision came to assume conversation indicated closeness between two people, while the lack thereof meant relational tension.

Until Wanda had taught him the meaning of companionable silence. She valued her quiet, as Vision learned that evening after happy hour, the first of their now weekly movie nights. 

She picked _Police Story_ , stating by way of explanation, "Pietro loved this one. It's so stupid. But the fight scenes are good."

It was his first movie-watching experience. He was excited by the prospect, curious to experience this particular vehicle of human culture.

Minutes in, he couldn't help musing aloud, "I wonder if they used a real shanty town for the set."

"Dunno."

He was surprised that she didn't reciprocate his commentary. Steve and Sam were constantly talking over the football games they watched together.

A few scenes later, he spoke up again. "Surely she cannot be falling for this knife-wielding murderer skulduggery. It is too bizarre."

"Vis, hush."

"How accurately does this represent Hong Kong police procedures in this time period?"

"VIS! Be quiet until the end of the movie or I will make you leave."

He subsided after that, feeling rather put out. But he made an effort to file away any questions that arose and let himself follow the story with an uncritical mind. He found that, though they sat without speaking, he still felt connected to Wanda. They laughed at the slapstick. They cheered at Jackie Chan's final stunt, a slide down a forty-foot poll. Quite an impressive feat for a non-enhanced individual. 

As the credits rolled, Vision noticed Wanda's eyes were shining. He didn't understand the reason for her strong emotion; it was not a sad movie. He guessed it had prompted a memory of a past viewing with her brother. Still, remembering how she reacted to his prodding last time, he decided to keep his council. 

Though he said not a word, she seemed to draw a measure of calm merely from his presence. It was unexpected and he didn't completely understand why. But he liked it.

Just then Natasha walked in, shaking Vision from the memory. Taking in the peaceful scene, a fond smile lit her face. She poked Wanda's legs until the younger woman begrudgingly made room on the couch. Once Natasha made herself comfortable, she zeroed in on Vision.

"What's up with you two?" she chirped. She exuded a completely different persona from the fierce taskmaster they faced at daily training.

"Reading. Though I confess I find myself re-reading the same sentence. Perhaps a cup of tea might make me alert. Would either of you like some?"

He stood to head to the kitchen. Wanda shook her head. Natasha eyed him from head to toe.

“Vis, I have to ask. Why do you dress like an elderly professor?” Natasha asked, apropos of nothing.

Vision gaped. 

Wanda let the magazine drop to her chest. Her face bore a carefully neutral expression.

“Do I really?” he asked, looking down at his dark blue sweater in dismay.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s kind of cute. Did you pick it out?” 

Though the “kind of cute” comment mollified him, Vision felt chagrined. He hadn’t considered how the style of his clothes might be interpreted by other people. He had worn them to fit in, not stick out. 

“Ms. Potts ordered them for me. I trusted her judgment in choosing clothing that would be both suitably presentable and comfortable,” he explained.

“Ah, that makes sense. Potts appreciates a man in cashmere." Nat cocked her head, musing aloud. "She must have leapt at the chance to dress you. I'll bet Tony never wears anything she picks out.”

“Is there something I need to change? Should I dress more like Mr. Stark?”

That elicited a sharp laugh from Natasha. Wanda shook her head vehemently.

“No, no. No, I don't see you in flashy tracksuits and sunglasses.” 

Then a pensive look crossed Natasha's face. “Though jeans and a t-shirt might be a step in the right direction. Something more laid-back. A bit younger,” she described. 

Her gaze slid to her couch partner. 

“Wanda, you should take him shopping.”

Wanda brought the magazine back up to her face. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. Or else you can stay here and train with me.”

“Does Vis even want to?”

“It could be an enlightening experience,” Vision put in. 

"I don't need to read your mind to see what a transparent ploy this is. You just want me to get out," Wanda accused.

"Yes," Natasha replied simply.

Wanda somehow managed to shrug while lying down. “I’ll go. But only if I get to drive,” she declared, staring pointedly at Natasha.

“Deal. Go pick out a car and I’ll take care of the rest,” the older woman replied. Wanda practically floated off the couch and headed in the direction of the compound’s parking garage. Vision rose to follow, but stopped at the door when Natasha spoke.

“Thanks, Vis. It’ll be good for her to get out. She’s been moping again lately,” she said with a rueful smile. 

He nodded his agreement. Though movie nights so far proved a successful way to entice her into socializing, in general Wanda remained withdrawn and spent much of her time in her room. He hoped Natasha was right and this excursion might help distract her from her dark thoughts. 

Besides, Vision had to admit, while he was perfectly content spending his days at the compound, he was excited by the prospect of a brief adventure.

"Plus, seriously, get some new clothes. You dress like a forty-five year old dad."

Outside, the temperature was crisp and the air held a hint of an earthy scent. The green leaves of summertime had just begun to change to warmer colors. He rather wished they could fly. But it would draw too much attention to fall from the sky into the small town's square. Swallowing his disappointment, he climbed into the sedan Wanda had pulled out front. 

He found driving wasn’t so bad after all. It seemed to relax Wanda. She had begged Natasha to teach her to drive. Now she relished every chance she got to practice.

She rolled down the windows and stuck her arm out just to feel the wind. Occasionally she hummed along to a song she recognized on the radio. They didn't say much. Yet Vision felt no need to fill the quiet.

They ended up in a bustling town a half hour to the south. Wanda parked the car on the main street, just outside of a consignment store. Peering in the window, he found what he could only presume were fashionably attired mannequins posing fiercely.

"Why not one of the stores selling new clothing?" he asked Wanda. They had passed by several on the way.

"Those stores are too shiny. They smell. This one's like back home. Plus there's no one to gawk at us."

Inside the store, Vision felt an unexpected trepidation at the sight of racks upon racks of clothing. Wanda pointed him in the direction of the men’s clothing. 

Before she abandoned him, he tugged her arm and leaned down to whisper, "What is the expected ritual in a store like this?"

Under her breath, she quickly gave him a tutorial on shopping. First, he must pick out clothing he liked. Then he had to bring the items to the fitting room where he could try them on and decide whether or not to buy them. Before he could ask her how to tell if he liked something, she swept off, leaving him to his own devices. 

The clerk at the register didn’t glance up from her book. He was on his own, Vision supposed. He took stock of his section of the store, taking in data points of sizes and colors and placement of clothing on the body. He discreetly tried running some data analysis algorithms to derive the secret order to the chaos. Clarity was not forthcoming.

Then his gaze fell upon a spinning rack full of men’s sweaters. Pleased to have found some familiar territory, he selected a few at random.

He found Wanda hanging a long red leather jacket in her fitting room. She pointed him to the room across the way and told him to come out with his first new look.

When he returned, all changed, she squinted at him. “Wait, what did you try on?”

“This sweater! What do you think of it?”

“It looks exactly like the one you were just wearing.”

“This one has stripes on it,” he said, looking down with a confused frown.

She walked right up to him to study the garment. He straightened under her scrutiny.

“Ok, so it has stripes. Very thin, almost invisible stripes,” she muttered dubiously. “Guess there's no getting you out of those blue sweaters, huh?”

“I suppose so.” His reply came out like a question.

“It's ok. You like what you like.”

“Frankly, I’m not sure what I should like.”

“It's not like there’s no right answer. Like, what’s your favorite color?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don't?”

“Preferences and personal taste,” he began, strangely flustered, “are developed through experiences. Influenced by how you’re raised and the culture in which you live. No one ever taught me these things.” Resentment tinged his last words. He didn’t know why this line of inquiry bothered him so. “In any case, does a super robot need a favorite color to be effective at incapacitating threats to humanity?”

He knew his joke fell flat when Wanda only considered him for a moment, her expression almost sad.

“It’s not all programming, Vis. You can just like something,” she said at last.

“Well, I like you,” he said, his face completely innocent. His bond with Wanda felt like one of the few things that came from him alone. No programming had worked behind the scenes to establish their friendship.

She blinked at him. Oh no, he suddenly worried, was that an odd thing to say?

“Vis, that’s a weird thing to say.” She tried and failed not to smile.

“Ah, my apologies. Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, shaking her head, “I know what you mean. I just mean, in general. People are weird about that stuff.” She turned away abruptly, sliding some hangers along the rack behind her.

What stuff? What was wrong with speaking truth? Sometimes he hated the enigmatic subtleties of conversation.

“How about I pick out something for you?”

A few minutes later, she returned with her choices: dark gray jeans and a t-shirt that depicted a squat yellow robot shaped like a cube with endearingly big binocular eyes. “Well, try these on.”

He did as she bade and tried on the proffered outfit, pronouncing it satisfactory, albeit a bit form-fitting. Wanda only nodded with an unreadable expression. 

Then it was his turn to watch as Wanda tried on and discarded: a corseted black dress ("wait I already have this"), a cherry red strapless swimsuit ("Too bad we don't have a pool"), a different black dress ("too itchy"). He found them all fetching, particularly the swimsuit. But nothing "worked" for her - except for the jacket that first caught her eye. 

A short time later, they stepped back out into the sunshine laden with purchases. Vision felt pleased. Shopping proved surprisingly fun. Though he imagined that owed to Wanda's presence more than any other factor. 

Though he still wasn't entirely sure what his favorite color was, his gaze was drawn to the dark red of Wanda’s new jacket slung over her shoulders.

> ✧ <

It was a quiet Friday night. Over dinner, Vision had brought some food to Mr. Stark. His creator had come up to oversee the installation of some delicate technical instruments at the facility. Vision had come to realize the man easily lost track of time when it came to his inventions, forgetting he needed things like food and rest like any normal human. So Vision took it upon himself to make sure those necessities were met.

Mr. Stark took the plate of food wordlessly. He shoveled an entire roll in his mouth and turned back to his work before Vision could even get out an invitation to take a break.

Leaving Vision with nothing else to do. He felt oddly restless. Neither reading his latest tome on the social behavior of whales nor running through mathematical simulations in his head could soothe the feeling. He mused over what other people did on their Friday nights.

Vision remembered overhearing some agents as they left for the evening talking about which bar to start off the night, debating the contenders’ proximities to nightclubs. But Vision couldn’t imagine going to a bar. With his striking appearance, he was still quite uncomfortable being in public with strangers. Clubbing posed the same difficulties but with the added challenge of dancing.

Most nights he liked to go flying. It was his favorite thing to do. And it helped pass the time, since he didn’t need to sleep for as long as his colleagues. He had never invited anyone to fly with him, but he thought Wanda might enjoy it. The stars were especially beautiful out here in the country, far away from urban light pollution. 

More and more frequently, Vision noted, he found himself yearning for Wanda’s company. Just a few days ago he volunteered to help on her night to do dishes, the menial labor a small price to pay for the chance to talk to her about this week's movie selection. 

It was not an unwanted development, this preoccupation with her. Just unforeseen.

As he made his way towards her room, he hoped she wasn’t sleeping already. She did tend to nap at odd hours.

Just outside her room, he heard a faint cry. It sounded pained. Heart rate spiking, he instantly shifted into high alert mode and analyzed the situation. Wanda might have injured herself. 

Was she training in her room? There was no time to wonder about that. 

Vision charged and, remembering himself at the last moment, phased straight through the door, like she requested.

“Wanda! Are you- ” the question died on his lips as he froze, transfixed by the scene before him. 

First he smelled the sharp scent of eucalyptus and tea leaves that wafted from the open bathroom door. Then he saw Wanda. 

Lit by the dim light of dusk, she lay on her bed wearing nothing but a towel that had fallen open. Her breasts rose and fell quickly with her hitched breathing, an utterly mesmerizing sight. Her wet dark hair streamed all around her. Eyes closed, one hand flung behind her head, the other bobbed up and down between her legs. He had never seen her face so expressive, so lost in throes of pleasure. Though the gravity of his mistake dawned on him, he couldn’t tear himself away. 

She was beautiful. 

And he felt himself grow hard for the first time.

Her eyes blinked open, as if waking from a dream. She met his gaze and went still, caught by the same spell that immobilized him. She didn’t say a word. Her darkened eyes bored into his.

Oh no, he thought, heart pounding. He may have only been born a few months ago, but he knew enough social norms to understand he had interrupted a highly intimate moment. _This_ was why humans installed doors all over the place. 

“Ah, my sincerest apologies. I’ll, ah, return later,” he said. He felt his cheeks heat and distantly catalogued the novel physical response.

Before she could respond, he sank down through the floor. A security guard walking the hall below gasped and sloshed coffee all over himself, but Vision didn't even stop to apologize profusely. Instead he took off in the direction of his room, phasing through walls and floors in his rush to escape what he'd done.

Alone in his room at last, he felt abuzz with a frenetic energy. He couldn’t stop picturing Wanda in his mind’s eye. Small details came to him unbidden. Her parted lips. The taut tendon of her middle finger moving between her thighs. The perfect curve of her breast. Inscrutable eyes the color of dark forest depths. 

Just the memory of her made his hardened penis pulse. 

He ran a hand over his mouth, trying to ignore his persistent arousal. Even as a completely inappropriate part of his brain, with, apparently, a direct line to his penis, urged him to go back and join her in the dark. 

The very idea was as terrifying as it was enticing.

He ached with need. Nothing had ever affected him this way. Instinct took over as he began stroking himself to alleviate the building pressure. His mind supplied images, extrapolating how she might react if he touched her. If he kissed her, ran his hands through her flowing hair. If he learned the precise feel of her skin by touching every inch of her body. If he coaxed that same gasp from her. If he buried his aching length inside her, locking his gaze with her dark one. 

The fantasy proved too much. Release shook his body.

> ✧ <

Wanda woke to an empty bed, as usual. She had one blissful moment of sleepy forgetfulness before the memory of what happened last night smacked her upside the head. She dragged her palms down her face in sheer agony from the delayed awkwardness.

As she dressed for the day she tried to reason it out. It had probably been too dark for him to see anything, she decided. 

But then she recalled the look on his face. It somehow managed to mingle surprise, growing dread, and rapt interest in one expression. 

No, he’d definitely gotten an eyeful.

She groaned and massaged her temples. Would she ever be able to look him in the face again? Why couln't the stupid robot remember to knock?

It was embarrassing enough that he’d barged in on her in such an exposed moment. But she had sensed his powerful emotions. The shock, curiosity, and, unexpectedly, base lust. Something crackled between them when their eyes met. She could have yelled at him, covered herself, anything. But she hadn’t. 

Something in her liked his entranced focus on her body. 

She wasn’t ready to unravel exactly what that meant.

She decided to chalk it all up to the heat of the moment. It was probably one of the most erotic things Vision had ever seen in his short life; naturally he would have some instinctive reaction. And she had already been so turned on that she responded too.

It’s not like anything could come of it. Ever since she and Pietro left to join HYDRA, her romantic life had taken a back seat. 

Even if she had time for a boyfriend, by now she was too scary to attract one. Before HYDRA, back when she ran wild with resistance groups, she’d hooked up with several boys, each relationship exciting, spontaneous, and over in the blink of an eye. These days she could barely hold a coherent conversation with a cute guy; they were always half-focused on striving (in vain) to keep their minds as blank as possible.

Except for Vision, she supposed. He was an open book to begin with. And his mind was unobtrusive. Strong emotions rarely ruffled him enough to make his thoughts noticeable to her. 

Well, except for last night when he caught her masturbating. That definitely evoked a reaction.

Still, android sex education was not exactly the casual fling she was up for right now.

Still undecided on how to handle this situation, Wanda made her way to the kitchen. She hoped to quickly snag a cup of coffee and return to hide in her room for the rest of the day. If she skipped meals she might even be able to avoid him until Monday. 

But, of course, Vision walked in before her coffee finished brewing.

They began to speak at the same time. Wanda broke off and gestured for Vision to continue. He took a breath to compose himself. 

“I want to extend my sincerest apology for violating your privacy last night. It will not-“

She cut him off, refusing to allow any eavesdroppers to hear any details. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

“What didn’t happen?” Stark asked as he walked in. Wanda nearly jumped out of her skin. Her psychic awareness was atrocious lately.

“Nothing,” the two of them replied simultaneously, drawing a sharp laugh from Stark.

“Whatever you kids say,” he said with a smirk. Silence stretched for an eternity while the man obliviously poured himself a coffee, added a healthy dose of vanilla creamer, and took a tasting sip. Satisfied, he strode off, blissfully unaware of the wormhole of awkwardness he'd just breezed through.

Wanda closed her eyes. This was so uncomfortable. She just needed to convince Vis to drop it. Then she could do her best to erase the whole debacle from her brain. With a sigh, she opened her eyes again. Vision was watching her, clearly at a loss.

“Like I said, let’s forget about it.”

“Yes, you’re probably right. That would be best,” he responded, though his reluctant tone belied his words. He clearly wanted to talk about it.

“And just, uh, knock on the door from now on, ok?” She smiled just a little, amused despite herself. 

Vision nodded sheepishly. 

> ✧ <

Vision knocked on Wanda’s door tentatively. He was getting better at this whole door ritual.

The atmosphere at Avengers HQ was subdued after the Nigeria mission. Wanda withdrew like a creature into her shell, spending her days locked in her room, waking up at odd hours to eat so she wouldn’t run into any of them. It was like when she had first arrived, when she barely spoke to anyone outside of training. Though Vision made a point to seek her out, she gently rebuffed his offers of company. 

Vision’s heart hurt to imagine Wanda sitting on her bed, watching endless news reports on the anti-Avenger protests happening around the world. Many called for her removal from the group, even her incarceration. He knew she was mulling over the Accords as well. They all were, though Steve’s departure for the funeral had postponed their final decision.

Wanda had had time enough for brooding. Tonight, Vision was determined to get her out of her room.

After a few minutes of insistent knocking, at last he heard Wanda pad to the door. She opened it just wide enough to reveal her face. Unadorned with her usual makeup, he noted.

“Good evening, Wanda. I wanted to ask-“

She cut him off. “Vis, I’m not in the mood to hang out.”

She began to close the door but he stood firm, palm pressed to the door.

“Wanda, please, as your friend, I must insist you come out of your room.”

"Why should I?" 

"There's something I want to show you." A gamble, he knew, to play mysterious with a psychic. He thought very hard about the paint color of her bedroom walls.

She cocked an eyebrow. He playfully raised his brows in response.

"Dress warmly," was all he said, revealing the thermos he held. She eyed him suspiciously - it was May - but nodded once.

Vision waited outside as she fetched extra layers of clothing. A memory arose in his mind: Wanda's face, lost to desire. From that fateful night a month ago.

After that night, he worried things would change between them. But Wanda made it clear she wanted to forget the matter. He was so relieved that she wasn’t furious with him that he agreed readily. 

But no matter how he might pretend, he knew something was irrevocably changed. Seeing her that night lit a curiosity within him.

An inconvenient, annoyingly persistent curiosity that popped up at the most inopportune times, he found.

When she was ready, he took Wanda up to the roof.

"I've been meaning to ask you to join me for a while now. Would you like to go flying with me?"

Wanda nodded and smiled, eyes bright. Vision's chest twinged at the sight.

They took off and floated up slowly, keeping pace with each other. Wanda’s magic gleamed fiery red at her hands and feet. Though she had spent the past year improving her control, flying still required her intense concentration. 

To Vision, it came as easily as breathing. He simply willed his body to lighten and let go. And just like that gravity lost its tether on him.

He watched the building grow smaller. A tiny sports car zoomed along the driveway, heading towards the highway. Mr. Stark leaving again. Vision wondered where he was going and when he would be back.

Soon their headquarters was nothing but a gray box in a field, surrounded by vast forest. The expansive blue sky rose above them. The air smelled crisp, the wind snapped loudly in his ears.

They made it to an atmospheric layer cold enough that they could see puffs of their breath. Wanda signaled for Vision to stop. He came to hover close by as she tried to stabilize herself. She had been practicing encasing her whole body with her magic to hold her up. He knew she could do it, but he still wanted to be in arms reach. After a few tries, her body was outlined in glowing red.

Once she was stable, she reached back for the thermos tucked in an inner pocket of her coat. She held it with both hands to warm them, taking occasional sips. Her cheeks and nose pinkened in the cold.

The wind was too strong for conversation. So they hovered side by the side without speaking, gazing at the world below them. 

Vision always found the view arresting. Looking on its beauty helped him reframe his current concerns and see them in a bigger picture. The way he imagined a painter might take a step back from his canvas to see it anew.

He hoped the sight also brought Wanda some measure of peace.

It was much too cold to stay up for long, so they soon made their way back to headquarters. Before long they sat at the kitchen’s breakfast nook, one mug of black coffee and a bowl of cereal before Wanda, another mug of caramel-colored coffee in front of Vision. 

He sipped his coffee tentatively, still a bit unsure if he actually liked the taste. Eating was not a necessity for him but tasting food and drink was an enjoyable novelty.

Wanda broke the silence. “Thanks for getting me out.”

“It seems as if I haven’t seen you in days.”

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what?” he asked gently. 

“About the people I murdered.” Vision repressed a wince.

“It was a tragedy.” He sighed.

“Not going to explain to me how it’s not my fault?”

“You bear responsibility. We cannot pretend otherwise.”

Wanda frowned and didn’t respond. Perhaps she had not expected such frankness from him.

"I know Steve does not wish for you to blame yourself. I understand his intentions. But it cannot be ignored that you are, objectively, directly to blame for those deaths. That being said, I do not say this to encourage self-flagellation."

"That's what I kept trying to tell him. People are dead because of me. There's no denying it. And it makes me regret ever joining the Avengers. Ever getting these cursed powers." She looked down at her hands in disgust.

“This is the burden of the powerful. It is dangerous to divest ourselves of blame just because our intent was good. But the deaths of those people does not detract from the fact that you saved many more lives that day. Those of us that care for you know that you will learn from this, and go on to do more good.”

"But could I save more if I just stayed out of it?"

"It is impossible to say. You have formidable power, Wanda. You have the capacity to do either immense good or great harm."

They lapsed into silence. Wanda ate spoonfuls of cereal slowly. She looked more morose than ever. Vision realized he was not as good at pep talks as Steve.

"Wanda, I meant what I said. We will protect you." He gazed at her, willing her to believe him.

Wanda's fingers curled around the bowl. She watched him, her face vulnerable in a way he had never seen. She looked sad, afraid, and oh so young. The cautious trust she revealed caught at his heart. 

He wanted to touch her, bring her some manner of comfort. Instead his hands curled into fists on his knees. 

In that moment he thought would do anything to protect her.

Yet, deep down, he knew his desire to protect her vied with another need, one that was foundational to his very sense of self. His drive to preserve and uphold order in this chaotic world. 

He could only hope his two strongest desires would not come to a head.

> ✧ <

_We would protect you._

Sitting in her cell, bound and gagged and unable to move a muscle, Wanda had nothing to do but think. She kept trying to wrap her mind around how she’d come to be in this position. She had believed to the last moment that they would protect her. After all, Vision had promised. And Vision, the most genuine person she had ever known, wouldn't lie.

Only now did she wonder at the semantic difference between _would_ and _will_. That promise, it turned out, was conditional. _We would protect you. Unless you proved a threat._

For a moment there, back on that airfield, held safe in Vision’s arms, her ears still ringing from Rhodey's sonic attack, Wanda thought things would be ok. Maybe this could all blow over and they could go back to being a team. Maybe they had just needed to get this conflict out of their system.

But then Vision lazerbeamed Rhodey out of the sky and he dropped Wanda like she scalded his hands and everything fell apart. The authorities swarmed. At a nod from Nat, Wanda stood down.

Now she was here, imprisoned indefinitely in the most advanced containment facility in the world.

She was so angry with herself for letting her guard down. She naively assumed it would be back to house arrest at headquarters, with a more serious guard than a marshmallow of an android. 

In retrospect, she should have dropped the armed force with a psychic shockwave then and there. Her time with the Avengers had made her soft. And now she was back where she started over a year ago. Held in a cell. Now with a strait jacket. 

What movements she could manage were tracked by security cameras. The red light of her inhibitor collar blinked steadily as she tried and failed to sleep. Every part of her ached. She could feel herself losing the strength she had worked so hard to achieve over the last year. She wanted to scream her frustration. 

Part of her outright loathed the others for their relative freedom to move about their cells. 

As the days wore on, that dark side yawned wider, threatening to swallow her. Wanda grew despondent. She replayed that dreadful moment in Lagos, the dawning horror as she realized what she’d done to those people. She began to believe they were right all along to keep her here. 

_What legal authority does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have to operate in Nigeria?_

The Sokovia Accords were ratified by 117 countries. Who was she to go against the will of world? Just some stupid over-powered teenager with blood on her hands. Who wasn't smart enough to sense the tide turning against her.

Soon everything else piled on to weigh Wanda down with despair. Her brother’s last words to her, strangely enough, kept echoing in her head. _You know I’m twelve minutes older than you_. She’d already celebrated her first birthday without him. A year, and she was still slowly dying by a thousand tiny cuts of grief day by day. 

Wanda’s eye twitched and her breathing grew loud with the effort not to cry. She would not reveal herself to her jailers.

A year gone by. One of the hardest in her life. It might have been much harder. But the Avengers gave her a home. Not her true home, but the closest thing she had to one since her parent’s apartment. They gave her a room of her own, a reason to get up in the morning. New friendships that blossomed impossibly in the burnt down wasteland of her heart. 

One friendship turned out to be more of a weed. An invasive species that crept in while her guard was down. 

_You’re saying they’ll come for me?_   
_We would protect you._

She'd opened herself up to Vision most of all. She couldn't help it. No one else was as persistent in spending time with her. Movie nights, chores, sparring, chatting in the breakfast nook. The android was sweet and easy to talk to. Infinitely patient and so damned persistent. He looked out for her, becoming more attuned to her moods than anyone else on the team, save Nat. Slowly but surely, by some arcane workings of the heart, Wanda came to like Vision. So much.

Too much, it turned out. For when the moment came when Wanda needed him to stand by her, Vision abandoned her. And though she'd gotten this far in life never trusting another soul save her brother, she hadn't seen it coming.

She thought of Vision's equation. The rise of enhanced persons and the rise of world-ending events to meet it.

_Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe._

In the end, whatever lay between them, she was just another data point to him. A dangerous enhanced person who incited conflict, whose safety and happiness did not outweigh the comfort of the rest of the world.

She’d expected Stark’s disregard. Rhodey's as well.

It was Vision’s betrayal that hurt the most.

Wanda glared at the wall and seethed, wishing with all her might that she could punch through it.

> ✧ <

Vision flew towards the prison, pushing himself well beyond his usual cruising speed. Raindrops hit his face like pebbles at this pace. The moment he’d seen Mr. Stark return, wounded and bitter in his defeat, Vision knew Steve would be heading straight to free the rest of his team. 

Vision knew he had to do something. They would lose what little trust they had gained from the public if the rogue Avengers were freed now. Maybe he could stop the jailbreak. 

Maybe he could see her one more time. He could explain himself.

As the vast floating prison came in to view, Vision realized he was too late. A flying vessel of unfamiliar design hovered above the entrance. Small figures darted through the rain to board it.

Vision put on an extra burst of speed. His luck held; Wanda was the last one to board. He called her name. She turned, her eyes wide with shock. Then they narrowed.

“You,” she hissed. He’d never heard such venom in her voice before. He stood waiting as she strode up to him. He took in the dull gray uniform, her hair plastered to her head, her eyes blinking against the pelting rain. He noted a disturbing hollowness under her eyes.

She stopped, her face inches from his. 

He realized he had no idea what he wanted to say or do. So he said the first thing that came to mind.

"Don't leave. I can escort you back to HQ. We can-"

She cut him off with a stream of Sokovian. " _Jebo te onaj ko te napravijo!_ "

A quick translation check made him blanche. "You want me to- by who?"

"Tell Stark I said the same thing. Fuck all of you," she growled.

"Wanda, please don't be angry. I never wanted this to happen."

He knew her anger was valid. Some part of him understood that logically. But her fury scared him too. It made him fear for the first time that he'd done something unforgivable.

“You let them take me. After you promised to protect me,” she said, her voice low, betrayed by the smallest tremble. Just that small sound made him ache. He remembered that declaration in the conference room. How empty it rang now.

He knew words were useless but he had to say something. “I’m sorry, Wanda. It was deplorable that they imprisoned you here. If Mr. Stark or I had known—“

“How could you not?” she hissed. In her anger, her accent seeped through. “You knew they feared me. Stark’s pride blinded him to it and either you were too naive or you didn’t give a fuck. And I think you can't give a fuck about anyone unless it's programmed into you.” She glared at him, daring him to deny it.

Vision said nothing. He couldn’t admit to her that he’d known. Of course he’d known. It was what he’d tried to gently warn her of from the start. Humanity could be unspeakably cruel to that which it feared.

“I thought we were friends, Vis. I trusted you.” She was shaking now, and Vision couldn’t tell if it was from anger or the cold. He vacillated between the urge to comfort and the itch to explain himself. If only he could make her understand he had no choice in this.

“It was for the greater good. Wanda, your powers - they cannot be used unchecked.”

That appeared to be the exact wrong thing to say. Her eyes flashed red. “Oh, but you can do whatever the fuck you want, because you always know what’s best, don’t you?" She raised her hands on either side of her head, gesturing like she couldn't contain her wrath. 

"God, you sound just like Stark. You’re the suit of armor around the world he always dreamed of. Our perfect protector." Her tone was mocking. "But you fuck up just like the rest of us. Just look at what you did to Rhodey.” 

For a split second she looked shocked at the words that came out of her mouth. But she didn't take them back.

Vision's head pounded with a rush of anger and remorse. How could she say such a thing? Emotion threatened to overwhelm his reason. He took a moment to master himself, shaken by his own reaction. He knew she could read the terrible guilt weighing on him. And she drove the knife of her angry words straight into that weak spot.

“That was cruel.” His voice came out dangerously low.

“It’s true, Vision. You’re no better than any of us.”

“I never said I was.”

“Wanda!” Steve yelled from the door of the hovering vessel. “We’ve got to go now!”

Wanda glared at Vision one final time. With effort her furious expression dropped, leaving behind a blank mask. 

“Goodbye, Vision.” 

She turned and ran to the vessel, nimbly hopping aboard. Vision was left alone standing on the platform amidst a stormy sea, rain dripping down his face. 

He could stop them. He could drag that ship back to the Raft if he really wanted to. But he didn't. 

He let her go.

> ✧ <

_oh, why'd you have to go and make me like you?_   
_this is a feeling I'm not used to_   
_oh, why'd you have to go and make me like you?_   
_i'm so mad at you_   
_cause now you got me missing you_

> ✧ <

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The origin story everyone's been waiting for: the scene leading to that little exchange in Civil War when Wanda yells "Vis, we talked about this!" at Vis when he phases into her room. 
> 
> These poor goobers. They got a ways to go.
> 
> Comments appreciated!


	3. A Blue-Eyed Stranger

> ✧ <

_thinking 'bout you lots lately_   
_have you been eating breakfast alone like me?_

> ✧ <

_Ten Months Later_

Wanda gazed out the window of the train, a quiet acoustic song playing through her earbuds. She was hoping for a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, but was disappointed to find only dull office complexes and working-class neighborhoods. These world-famous cities that she only knew from movie sets never looked as glamorous close up. 

New York had been the same way. On her first time there, for the Avengers induction ceremony that felt like a million years ago, she had to dodge not one but two piles of human shit lying in the middle of the sidewalk. 

Effectively dispelling the mirage of the shining city that ran the world.

The Golden City of Wakanda, now, that did not disappoint. It was unlike anyplace Wanda had ever seen. She sometimes wished she had gotten more time to explore that utopian capital. But running missions for the War Dogs had its perks too. She’d just wrapped up a job in Vienna - Barcelona before that. And now she finally got to see Paris, the city of lights, love, and fresh-baked baguettes.

Soon the scenery outside her window shifted as buildings becoming more densely packed. At last the train arrived at Gare du Nord. 

Wanda snatched up her duffel, the one that had traveled with her all the way from Sokovia like a loyal hound. She tried to slip off first. But a line had already formed in the aisle behind an elderly man gingerly removing his bag from overhead. She kept her ball cap scrunched down over eyes. 

It was late, almost midnight, but the station was still relatively full of people. These transportation centers were the riskiest places for her. Anyone in the the crowd might identify her. 

Wearing an oversized sweatshirt, minimal makeup, and shorter hair dyed a shade called "Vixen’s Scarlet", Wanda looked completely different from the way the world had last seen her: whipping cars across an airfield in her signature red jacket and long brown hair. 

Still, it wasn't a perfect disguise.

That's where her powers came in handy. Before Wanda left on her first mission, she and Nat worked out a technique for casting an invisibility illusion, localized to anyone within a few feet. Wanda couldn't truly become invisible, but with some psychic nudging she could influence people near her to find her particularly beneath notice.

Probably time to refresh that spell on the remaining passengers. Hiding her gesturing hand in her hoodie pocket, she sent flicks of magic skittering throughout the train car. No one reacted outwardly, except for one woman who had been watching Wanda, whose gaze suddenly darted elsewhere. 

Ineffective on anyone who knew her well, it worked wonders on strangers. It had protected her from exposure since she left the safety of Wakanda nearly nine months ago. Still, it was a bit of a plate-balancing act, and she couldn't hypnotize everyone in the station. So she'd just have to keep her head down and hope.

This was a fine plan, until Wanda realized she only had overhead signs by which to navigate. She lifted her eyes quickly, taking in as much information in one glance. Signs for the Metro, to ground transport, to restrooms. Five exits. A service door. Just how Nat had trained her. She strode confidently down a tunnel, hoping she looked like just another university student back from a trip. 

The smell of baked goods wafted towards as she passed by a tiny boulangerie inside the station. The delicious scent assaulted her senses, making her famished stomach rumble. She hadn't eaten for hours but she didn't want to stay in this busy place any longer than necessary. She had survived much longer without food in the past. So she soldiered on.

Within minutes Wanda made it to the Metro station and hopped on a train just in time as it took off towards the center of the city. Settling into the furthest seat from everyone she could find, she let her head drop to rest against the seat in front of her. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her stomach grumbled again.

She was almost there.

Wanda felt a pang of loneliness. She missed the energy and camaraderie of the Quinjet as the whole team headed out on a mission. Still, she was glad to be out here doing something - anything - useful.

Wanda barely lasted a month in Wakanda. A veritable paradise after the Raft, she wished she could have stayed and found some respite. She tried. 

As a guest of the presumptive king, with no duties to occupy her time, it should have been the sabbatical of a lifetime. But she quickly grew restless. 

Without the regiment of training to throw herself into, she had too much time to think. About her brother. The people of Novi Grad. Her parents. The men and women she killed in Lagos. The sea of grief she'd been barely treading in rose up to swallow her. Before long it was a struggle to get out of bed.

Then there was T'Challa. Every time she interacted with him, often enough as a royal guest, she felt the heavy weight of responsibility thrust upon him, and the raw sorrow he strove to hide behind his dignified demeanor. 

Once Wanda stumbled upon the man standing alone as he gazed at the city from one of the palace windows. In his mind, she caught glimpses of his final memories of his father. A warm hand and cold ring against his cheek, the exchange of fond words. Frantically clutching the same hand to check for a pulse. 

She hastened away, unable to bear such familiar pain.

It was her fault. She counted T’Challa’s father among her dead. After all, if not for her actions in Lagos, King T’Chaka would never have been in Vienna. He might still be alive. 

Yet T'Challa was never less than gracious to her. The man bore the brunt of her worst mistake and he didn’t even have the decency to despise her. Instead of rightfully blaming her, he seemed to pity her.

So after weeks of hiding in her rooms, mired in restive regret, Wanda begged Nat to put her on a mission. Nat resisted at first.

"Wanda, it's too soon. We need to lay low. You should be resting, processing. Just give yourself some time," her mentor told her, brow furrowed with concern.

"I need to do something. I _need_ to."

"I get it. But, I don't really have that authority anymore, kid. We're here on the goodwill of T'Challa alone."

"Nat, please."

Something in Wanda's tone must have convinced her mentor. With all of Nat's experience as an interrogator, the ex-spy knew the sound of someone about to crack. 

So Nat met with the head of the War Dogs and together they selected an information-gathering mission for Wanda. Rules were set, the first and most important one being: absolutely no engagement with her target. She was to observe them and glean what information she could via mind-reading. 

The War Dogs commander was more than happy to make use of Wanda. With her training and abilities, she was an ideal fit, and she could keep the other agents out of danger. And so Wanda began her new life as a contracted scout for the War Dogs, trailing influential politicians and criminal kingpins alike.

Her latest mission was to track down Ulysses Klaue. A dedicated team had been searching for him and were closing in on him. Their latest intel indicated that the notorious arms dealer would be in Paris in a few days time in order to attend a clandestine conference with other peers of the underworld. Since she knew the brute, Wanda was chosen to be their eyes on the ground. She would find him, then alert the War Dog team standing by to swoop in and take him down.

Klaue was her most dangerous target yet. Not only could he recognize her, he was uncannily perceptive. So far every tail the Dogs sent after him wound up dead within a week.

Wanda tried to steel herself. She hadn't been caught yet. She was a professional ass-kicker tracking down Ulysses Klaue on behalf of the Wakandan government. It sounded better when she put it like that. More official. Less like running away from her own problems.

The metro doors opened on what Wanda thought was the third stop. She was getting off on the fourth. Just to check, she looked up blearily and realized she was already at her stop. 

Shit! She jumped up and flung herself through the doors just before they closed.

At last Wanda stepped out onto the streets of Paris. For a moment she stood, taking it all in. The buildings all had the same elegant look, grids of tall windows and small balconies. Cafés shone like beacons in the night, with striped awnings overhanging seats lined up outside for people watching. She was in the neighborhood of the Sorbonne, just south of Notre Dame. She still couldn't see the grand cathedral or the Eiffel Tower. All the same, she felt that familiar thrill of freedom. Here, she was just another nameless woman walking the streets of the city of lights. No memories associated with this place. Just discovery. 

Wanda felt tentative happiness take hold in her heart.

Her stomach growled audibly this time. Right, time to find something to eat and get to her apartment. She pulled up the address provided by her War Dog handler, N'Dele. He had arranged for her to stay in a student's studio apartment.

It was only a short walk away. As Wanda inspected the unassuming building that was to be her homebase, she overheard laughter. Glancing over, she saw across the street a tiny but lively restaurant. It was clearly popular, with clumps of people waiting for tables even at this late hour.

It looked so invitingly cozy. She took a step towards it. 

A man waiting just outside caught sight of her and grinned.

" _On y va, ma belle_?" he asked, gesturing towards the entrance.

The assurance in his flirtatious dinner invitation amused Wanda. She was surprised to find herself tempted. He was decent-looking, with a crooked smile. This was the first time she'd been asked out since getting her powers. She liked the idea of going on a date, like a normal girl her age might do. 

Nat's parting words rang out in her head. _Don't let your guard down_.

"Stick to information gathering. No heroics," Nat had said as she gave Wanda one final hug in the aircraft hanger.

"I know."

"Keep an eye on the news for any Avengers movement. You hear of any of them heading your way, you call immediately for extraction."

"Yes, I know."

"Promise you'll be careful, alright?"

"Yes! Obviously I will! I've survived this long, haven't I? I know what I'm doing."

Nat only smiled at her ire. "You're right. But things are different now. It's one thing being a Sokovian rebel. It's another to be a globally wanted criminal. Trust me." She let out a sigh. "So don't let your guard down, not even for a second."

With Nat's warning ringing, Wanda weighed the decision. She studied the flirt as he awaited her answer, trying to look aloof. He definitely did not know who she was. This was no undercover agent hoping to take her down. He just wanted to take her to dinner. And she was hungry.

And it would be nice not to be alone for an hour.

So Wanda pasted a sweet smile on her face and nodded, not trusting her unused voice not to croak. She hadn't spoken to a soul since the briefing with N'Dele in Vienna two days ago.

The man gaped but recovered quickly.

They entered the restaurant. The only illumination came from red tea lights at every table, bathing the place in burgundy shadows. Wanda expected to wait, but the man had some special connection, for they were seated right away at a table tucked in the corner. 

She ignored the unvoiced curses of those waiting outside. Fuck them. She was on a date in Paris!

It had been so long since she'd just been a person in the world. Not one of HYDRA's tools. Not an Avenger. Not an outlaw. Just a girl.

The man spoke rapidly with the waiter, ordering for both of them. Ordinarily she would have been annoyed at his presumption. But now she was too hungry to want to bother trying to decipher a menu.

He turned back to her, that crooked grin back on his face. The light in his eyes reminded her so much of her first crushes - all those half-feral, foolhardy boys fighting for Sokovia's freedom. How she'd adored running with them. Her first kiss in the heat of the moment after a successful hit on a military convoy. Breathless hookups in the backs of broken down cars. She lost her virginity to their resident propagandist on the ancient sagging sofa in the printmaking studio.

He'd been arrested a few days later. She never heard from him again.

Her reminiscing was interrupted when her date asked her a question. 

"Wanda?" She hoped he'd asked for her name but she honestly had no idea.

" _Enchanté, Wanda, je m'appelle Jean-Paul. Quelle chance tu as que je t'ai trouvé!_ "

She raised her brows and nodded. Wanda didn't know a word of French beyond " _Bonjour_ " and " _Va te faire eculer_ " (thanks to Pietro's quest to curse in every language). Her powers could help her translate in a pinch, as long as the concepts were concrete enough to be pictured by the speaker. Still, she wondered if she should ask if he knew any English. 

It turned out she needn't have worried.

The Frenchman kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation for the entire forty-five minutes that they waited for their food. On and on about his amazing business idea, uber for cigarettes, and how it would revolutionize the world and make him a billionaire. Wanda nodded and forced the occasional laugh where appropriate. 

After a while he made his move, reaching across the table to grab her hand and bring it to his lips in a gesture she knew was calculated to be irresistible. Once she might have fallen for it. But she could sense that he was stripping her in his mind. It was a good thing she had long ago mastered her poker face - she barely twitched at the heaving bosoms of his porny fantasy of her.

She hoped their food arrived soon.

Then he began imagining ass-fucking her over the table.

Well. She wasn't sure what she'd expected on her first date as a psychic. She was no romantic but this was a bit much.

She closed her eyes with a sigh. She was still starving. Starving enough to let this asshole drone at her for almost an hour. But not enough to put up with this shit. She leaned forward and slugged him, hard. Ignoring his outraged cries, she squeezed her way out of the restaurant back into the cool night.

Around the corner, she found a brightly lit kebab döner shop. She jogged up and gave her order quickly, hoping her furious date wasn’t following her. But he didn’t appear. 

When she received her kebab, Wanda could have cried at the smell alone. She power-walked back to the apartment. Letting herself in with the key from a lockbox, Wanda found a single tiny room waiting for her. 

As she sat at the lone table devouring her kebab, she brooded over her disastrous date. If her powers had convinced her of one thing, it was that men's brains really did reside in their dicks. 

To take her mind off stupid men, Wanda inspected her lodgings. It was clearly the home of an art student, with sketches and prints hung haphazardly on every wall. A few plants on the windowsill, each pot hand-painted. A red futon shoved in the corner.

Wanda wondered what it would be like to live here. Attend university. Not live as an international fugitive.

It was pointless to wonder. As tonight had reminded her, even if Lagos and the civil war had never happened, she couldn't ever go back to a normal life. Not with her abilities revealing the suppressed thoughts of everyone around her.

After throwing out her food containers, Wanda stretched out on the futon. She threw on the 90's alternative playlist she'd made on the train earlier. It made her miss her guitar. 

She scrolled idly through her phone. All she did was lurk on social media, following strangers whose lives seemed perfect, as far from her own reality as possible. She set down her phone. Tonight it just made her lonelier. 

Wanda considered texting Nat about that trash fire of a date. That seemed like a normal thing to do. But Nat would probably just lecture her for agreeing to it in the first place. And then she'd tell Steve, and Steve would hop on the next plane to Paris, fists blazing.

I'm twenty-two years old and I have no friends, she thought, allowing herself a dramatically morose sigh in the privacy of her own room.

It was true. With Pietro gone, her only remaining close relationships were with Steve and Nat. And they were more like weird coworker/parental stand-ins than actual friends. She had no one she could really confide with.

Vision, strangely enough, had been the closest thing she had to a friend, in the before-Steve-fucked-things-up times. In many ways they were closest in maturity on the team. With his genius brain directly connected to the internet, Vision knew a lot more than she did. In theory. But she still had to teach him how to use doors. 

She still wasn’t exactly sure when they became friends. It just seemed to happen. One day she was fending off his persistent obtuse attempts at small talk. And then she was teaching him how to save questions until _after_ the movie. Showing him how to pick clothes for himself. Encouraging him to take up a hobby. Absolving all responsibility when he went with plants. Turning to him for comfort after her worst mistake.

It was strangely fun, teaching an android basic human normalcies. He never ceased to surprise her, the way he examined the world, finding mystery in the mundane.

With him, she wasn’t weird. She was just Wanda.

She’d never stood a chance, really. He imprinted on her like a duckling. All her usually highly effective ways of shutting people out failed in the face of his relentless naiveté. Even on her worst days, when anger and grief weighed on her and she snapped at him over nothing, he simply gave her a few hours of space, then came right back acting as if all was forgiven.

She wondered if he missed her.

Not that she should care. He'd shown his true colors. He'd shown the extent of his capacity to care for her. Only as long as Stark deemed it allowable.

He broke his promise. No matter how lonely she felt, she couldn't forget that.

> ✧ <

Vision landed on the roof of Avengers HQ as the first drops of rain fell. The ominous gray sky above was a far cry from the bright blue horizon he'd seen over the Caribbean earlier that day. The beauty belied the carnage on the islands below.

He'd been down south to assist with disaster relief after a category-four hurricane swept through the islands the day before. It had been a long day of reporting on conditions to relief organizers and lending his strength to search and rescue efforts. Draining but satisfying work. He liked these straightforward missions best: go here, move this debris, save the huddling family. Iterate until the day is saved.

Of course, it was never so simple. For every pile of rubble hiding desperate survivors, there was a collapsed building next door hiding only corpses. The haphazard loss of life wearied him.

Vision swept inside, eager to be out of the rain. For once he was eager to sleep as well. He didn't need as much as a typical person. But after the past few days he wanted nothing more than to shut off his brain for a brief time.

He headed directly to his room, phasing through walls and floors, taking no care to avoid startling people. Ordinarily he would walk - after the time he nearly caused an older agent a heart attack, it seemed better for everyone that he not pop up out of the floor unannounced - but it was late and the only people around were guards patrolling the facility perimeter.

Taking the shortcut meant he didn't have to pass by the Avengers' lounge area. Or the room connected to it. Her room.

These days Vision preferred to avoid that part of the facility. Just seeing it, all neat and tidy and empty, brought on a strange mild pain in his chest.

When he made his decision to stand by Mr. Stark, he hadn't truly understood what he was giving up. He'd been quite clear on what he championed: the principles of oversight, of checks and balances, of order. They were all that mattered.

So in the weeks following the civil war, he carried on diligently completing his duties. He took on back-to-back missions, leaving no time for rest or reflection. There was always something wrong in the world, something to fix. So he never stopped to think about the cost of what he'd done.

Then one day, he returned from a mission, feeling acutely exhausted, and, without thinking, he marched all the way to Wanda's room to remind her it was movie night. The door swung open under his light knock. He stepped into her sanctum. It looked exactly the way she'd left it, down to the plum nail polish sitting on her desk and the astrology book on her bedside table. Even the bed linens were still rumpled. 

All at once, it hit him. She was truly gone. They were all gone. There would be no more leisurely conversations over coffee and Sam's pancakes on those rare late weekend mornings they had free. No more late-night card games, with Natasha and Wanda competing fiercely to fleece the lot of them. No more mission debriefs led by Steve, his audience sprawled about chairs and couches. No more movie nights, just he and Wanda, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Thrillingly close.

The realization hurt like a physical injury. He didn't know emotions could impact him like that. It was an unpleasant discovery.

Then Vision noticed a layer of dust on Wanda's guitar. He knew it didn't really matter. She couldn't come back for any of these things. But still, on impulse, he went to the supply closet and returned with a duster and attacked her room in a cleaning frenzy. 

He came back to clean her room a few times after that. Then he decided it made him too sad to return to that room frozen in time. So he moved her guitar into his own room and avoided all other reminders of the complete team to which he'd once belonged. Of the friends he turned from. Of the dark-haired witch whose parting words haunted him.

Vision was nearly to his room, whizzing past the maze of conferences rooms, when he noticed one was still lit. Unexpected, given the late hour. Everyone should be home by now. But there were two men speaking in hushed voices. One was Mr. Stark, who Vision hadn’t seen in over two weeks. 

His creator did not like to visit headquarters these days.

The other man was the American Secretary of State. Vision found the man rather too enamored of his own power to trust him. He hadn’t stepped foot in this building since he brought the Accords for the team to sign.

They hadn't spotted Vision, who had frozen mid-phase, his head popping out of the floor just down the hall. He debated revealing himself. There was no reason he shouldn't be privy to their conversation. Yet the discussion appeared intense. His interruption might derail some delicate negotiation. Perhaps they would tell him it was nothing to worry about, the way Mr. Stark always did when he was tired of explaining things.

Hidden observation seemed the best option. Vision phased back through the floor. He moved a few yards diagonally, overlaying his sight with a 3D map of the facility to ensure he positioned himself directly beneath the central table in the conference room. Then he poked his head through the floor once more.

"We need to move now, Stark. She's been spotted in Paris. Finally! Here, they caught someone matching her description at the train station. Here, they verified her identity on a street in the Sorbonne. Our first sighting since she escaped almost a year ago." The Secretary seemed to be clicking through slides. Vision resisted the urge to try to find an angle to view the screen. He longed to confirm she looked well, but then he would reveal himself. 

At this point, he could safely assume that revealing himself would make things, as Wanda might put it, seriously awkward.

"So, what do you want me to do about it?" Mr. Stark's tone was decidedly exasperated. "She'll bolt the second I even think about going after her. You remember she's psychic right?"

"Of course I know that," the Secretary snapped. "I'm looking for solutions here, not excuses, pal. She's a powerful, unstable enhanced. This is your whole job. So how do we bring her in?"

"Has she even done anything?"

"Nothing yet. But she still hasn't answered for Lagos."

"I thought that was officially blamed on Crossbones."

"It doesn't matter. You know we can't let her stay loose. It's an embarrassment that those four are still running around under our noses. We need the world to know the Accords mean something. There must be consequences for their rebellion."

"Does this come from the Council?"

"I speak for the Council in this matter."

"Yeah. Not buyin' it." Mr. Stark paced away, continuing, "No, I want an official decree. Written on a scroll. You know, some real John Hancock shit."

"Don't you fuck with me," the Secretary actually growled.

"No, _you_ don't fuck with me. I'm not doing your dirty work like some underling. You wanted us to get political, so get politicking and get me a decree," Mr. Stark replied, all lightness gone from his voice.

The silence that followed was somehow louder than than the argument itself.

Vision marveled at what he'd just overheard. The Secretary was apparently trying to circumvent the very channels he helped install. And he had fixated on Wanda for some reason. Vision was pleased to hear Mr. Stark stand up to his bullying. 

Still, this was a worrying development.

Finally, the Secretary broke the tense silence.

"Fine. You'll be hearing from me."

He slammed the door behind him.

Mr. Stark lingered in the room, apparently lost in thought. Vision was about to depart when his creator spoke.

"Ok Vision, come on out."

For all his lackadaisical manner, the man was sharp.

Vision let his body go light, rising through the floor and the table to stand behind Mr. Stark. As the man turned around, he clutched his chest in what Vision hoped was only a melodramatic gesture.

"Jesus, you're like a ghost. I did not design you to be this creepy."

"Apologies, Mr. Stark," Vision responded diffidently. "How did you know I was there?"

"Your phasing. It makes a little _wowump_ sound."

"Does it really? I hadn't noticed." 

"Yes. Anyway. You heard everything right?"

"Yes."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Yes?"

"Go follow him. See if he contacts anyone. I think we were only plan A."

"Ah, good thinking. I shall go now."

With that, Vision sped off after the Secretary.

He found the politician pacing outside the lobby doors. A car was moving quickly down the long road towards headquarters - presumably his driver coming to fetch him. As the Secretary waited, he held a phone to his ear. Vision kept to the roof above, hidden by darkness. He closed his eyes to hack into the security camera closest to the car. With volume dialed as high as it would go, he listened to the one-sided conversation.

"Stark proved uncooperative. Can't say I'm surprised. Don't know how they expect us to work with that sanctimonious asshole." 

A brief response too quiet to make out. 

"You bet your ass we're onto the alternative measure. I want a meeting set by tomorrow morning. Let's go with that Elektra woman, her file looked quite promising. Maximoff won't go down easy so we need the best of the best-" 

The Secretary cut off abruptly, listening to a question on the other end.

"Well, alive preferably. But I understand, these things can get dicey. Just make it clear that if there's no way around killing her, it must be untraceable. Absolutely no witnesses," the Secretary barked, enunciating his requirements emphatically.

Vision's stomach dropped as he realized what the man was setting in motion. 

"Good." The Secretary hung up the phone. He stepped into the car just as it rolled up. A rev of the engine rumbled and then he was gone.

Vision returned to himself with a jolt. He rubbed his forehead. He didn't want to believe it. But it was hard to misinterpret that call. The Secretary was ordering a hit on Wanda. He wanted her out of the picture, dead or alive. 

Vision had to leave now if he was to warn Wanda in time.

> ✧ <

Wanda took a sip of her wine and looked out from her barstool perch at the sparkling lights of the city. Now this was the magical Paris of her daydreams. The Eiffel Tower dominated the view, shining golden against the night sky. The guests at this luxury hotel paid dearly for a view like this. She wished, for a moment, that she was just another of the rich and fabulous, relaxing on this terrace without a care in the world. 

Instead, she worked. For this hotel was not populated by run-of-the-mill rich assholes. Every person here, from the hungry-looking men in suits and scars to the tiny Chinese woman flanked by enormous bodyguards, was a notorious arms dealer.

Stark hadn't been joking - there really were conventions, even in this highly illegal market. One of the dealers, probably new to the scene, had rented out the entire rooftop terrace to entertain and impress his business associates. Tonight was for pleasure, a warmup to the multi-million dollar deals that would go down tomorrow. 

And so they kept the machine of war running nice and smooth, churning out destroyed families and orphans as it went. 

As much as she longed to bring the proceedings to a screeching halt with a well-timed psychic shockwave, Wanda restrained herself. She was an international outlaw herself and she would go down with the rest of these criminals. 

She had to stay focused on her goal. Information on Klaue.

From her vantage point at the bar, Wanda had easy access to all of the minds around her. They stood in clumps all around her, smoking cigars, laughing the hearty laughs of the untouchable. Her lips curled at the sound.

It was a simple enough assignment if she could keep a low profile. Profit margins and kill rates buzzed around the heads of everyone here. Listening to the cold calculating thoughts of these war profiteers was really doing a number on Wanda's dwindling faith in humanity. 

Wanda tried to focus. There were so many conversations and thoughts to sift through. She’d been at this for an hour, without finding an inkling of a clue. She was growing exhausted.

Then she finally heard Klaue's name. Wanda zeroed in on the thought, scanning the room under lashes. There. A tall powerfully-built black man in conversation with an older short-haired white woman.

"Where is Klaue anyway? I haven't seen him in a while."

The man shrugged.

"What's he up to? Anything new and exciting?"

The man remained stubbornly silent in the face of the interrogation. But the conversation was stirring up recent memories in the man's head. A brief phrase echoed in his mind.

 _Once you're done, meet me in Brussels. Got some product I need moved_.

Wanda recognized the voice instantly. She’d finally gotten what she came for. Time to head out. 

As she paid up at the bar, Wanda pondered her next move. The clue was something, but not much. A man could hide easily in a city. If she stalked Klaue's associate and spent some time digging deeper into his memories, she might be able to get more precise information.

Once she might have done so without stopping to think. But she couldn't risk getting caught. No information was worth getting thrown back in the Raft.

Wanda decided she would be good. She would pass on the information to her handler. As a reward for her night's work and responsible decision she would head back to her tiny apartment to finish a cheap bottle of wine and watch the final season of Gossip Girl. 

She still had a lot of culture to catch up on since ditching HYDRA.

As she slunk towards the grand staircase, Wanda once again hesitated to leave. She couldn’t shake the odd feeling that danger was near. Her psychic intuition came in handy but she did wish it could be more specific sometimes.

Wanda stepped out into the night.

> ✧ <

Vision had only been flying for three hours when Mr. Stark called him. Vision had hoped his creator wouldn't see the encrypted message he'd left, detailing all he'd overheard and his intention to stop it, until the next morning. Stark never got a decent night's rest these days. It was too late to stop Vision in any case.

"Vision, what the hell?"

"My apologies, Mr. Stark, for the abrupt departure. There was not a moment to lose."

"It's not like you to run off half-cocked like this. I know you're concerned but there are other ways we can deal with this. I'm sure Clint could get a hold of Nat."

"Mr. Barton refuses to speak to you."

Vision knew Mr. Stark well enough to know the man was taking the following pause to pinch between his eyebrows.

"Fine, that's true! But we can figure something out without you running into this with no plan."

Vision bristled, feeling oddly defensive. 

"I have a plan. I will find her and warn her. I will return as soon as I have done so."

Mr. Stark seemed to consider his next words carefully.

"And what if Wanda thinks you're coming to take her in? We're the enemy now, Vision, in her eyes."

"I'll make her understand. Wanda would never hurt me." 

"Buddy, last time you went one on one, she practically sent you to the center of the earth," Stark drawled. Then he sighed. "All I'm saying, this time she might not play nice."

Vision pointed out that, technically, he had been unharmed by that encounter, only incapacitated. Nothing Stark said could turn him from his path. Eventually his creator gave up, leaving him with an ultimatum.

"I'll cover for you for one week. But you call me the moment the situation gets hot."

Several hours later, Vision arrived in Paris. He took a moment to gaze at the sparkling city from a thousand foot height. It was beautiful, as always. And somewhere, Wanda was in danger. He might already be too late. 

Vision's only clue as to Wanda's precise whereabouts was the photo taken on that street in the Sorbonne neighborhood. He decided to head there first and stake out the area.

As he descended to the level of the rooftops, Vision shifted his appearance to blend in with the light-polluted darkness of the city streets. It worked rather like a hellicarrier's camouflage technology. A fascinating trick he'd learned during his hours of experimentation with adjusting his appearance.

Vision set down on one of the building rooftops. He examined the streets below. Empty, but for the small crowd hanging outside a restaurant. Time to settle in and wait, he supposed.

Rolling back his shoulders, he assumed his human form. His original goal during those form-adjusting experiments. It offered him the best chance at remaining incognito on this mission unsanctioned by the Accords. To the world, he presented a hero they could believe in, complete with vibrant skin-tight suit and billowing cape. So far he'd successfully kept his human form a secret from the public - only Mr. Stark knew of it.

He wondered what Wanda would think of how he looked. If she would recognize him. 

The prospect of seeing her again filled him with an almost overwhelming number of emotions. Nerves, making his hands dance pointlessly. Guilt, coiling restlessly in his stomach. Most of all, excited anticipation that refused to settle, making his heart thump at a quick clip. 

Vision tried to rein in these feelings with little success. As much as he had denied Mr. Stark's arguments during their debate earlier, Vision knew the man made valid points. Wanda would, at best, be ambivalent about their reunion. At worst... 

He thought back to the last time he’d seen her. Soaked hair whipping around her face, her eyes like dark slashes. She’d cursed him. She hadn’t outright said she hated him, but somehow, from the furious eyes, stiff bearing, and that trembling voice he'd never heard before, he knew that was how she felt.

He had hoped she would understand. Power required sacrifice. Otherwise it would corrupt her.

Of course he would have worked to find a better solution for her, while respecting the Accords.

He saw a man carrying a bundle of flowers outside the restaurant across the street. The man was pestering the couples outside, each time directing a question towards the man before being rudely rebuffed. The sight gave Vision an idea. He dropped down to an empty alley below, blending in with his surroundings as he descended.

“ _C’est combien pour les tous_?” he asked as he walked up to the seller of flowers, his French translation coming out technically correct, if not very natural.

The man named a ridiculous price that matched the cost of a meal at the restaurant they stood outside. Vision paid him anyway. The merchant bid him a “ _bon nuit et bonne chance, mon vieux_ ” before disappearing into the night.

Vision returned to his post, pleased with his purchase. It was a technique he’d seen often enough in movies. It certainly wouldn’t prompt Wanda’s forgiveness, but perhaps it would at least make his good intentions clear.

He had been sitting vigil for almost an hour when something curious happened. His mindstone began pulsing, like a faint headache emanating from the jewel in his forehead. Vision turned experimentally in a circle. The pulsing increased in frequency when he faced west, towards the center of the city. It sensed something nearby.

Vision was not one to trust his intuition. It was not finely tuned by very much experience and tended to lead him astray. But the mindstone compelled him. He had little choice but to follow.

  
> ✧ <

Wanda cut through an empty alley. The cobblestones reflected the sickly yellow of the street lights. 

She wove slightly, feeling the effects of the vodka tonics she’d had at the hotel. She had meant to nurse one drink over the evening for appearance's sake, but ended up going through four. She knew her limits, but still, it was sloppy. Dangerous probably. Steve would have sentenced her to a thousand laps if he knew. 

But he wasn't here. And she found the dulling effect alcohol had on her psychic senses to be rather useful. It drowned out all but the minds closest to her. Made it easier to focus.

And it drowned out any unwanted stray thoughts. Pietro's loss was aching fiercely, now that she was back on her own. He crept into her thoughts anytime she sat with them longer than a moment.

 _Got you_.

The thought rang out from behind her. It was Klaue’s lackey from the hotel. He'd followed her.

Shit, shit. Should she run? Fear sobered her up quickly.

Or perhaps this was the opportunity she needed to get more information. If she played it right.

She kept walking, not letting on she sensed him.

She didn't know how far he was. No footsteps echoed down the alley. 

A broad hang grabbed her shoulder. 

She was shoved roughly into the wall of the alley and held there firmly by a strong arm pressing into her back. As her face smacked into the stone, she tasted blood. A gun dug into the back of her head.

“I remember you, girl." 

Wanda stiffened. She'd had her invisibility illusion in place the entire time. There was no way this man could have recognized her, even if he'd seen her image before. But the voice, deep with a strong Afrikaans accent, teased her memory. 

"Thought that metal bastard was dead. Is he back? Or does a new master hold your leash now?”

Shit. She realized who he was. 

Wanda hadn't been eavesdropping on any ordinary lackey. This was Klaue’s lieutenant. The one who'd attended him during the vibranium deal with Ultron. She hadn’t recognized him in the dim light of the rooftop. She cursed herself silently for letting this idiot get the jump on her.

“I’m waiting. Give me a name and I’ll let you go.” He pressed the gun harder against her skull. 

Didn’t take a psychic to know that was a lie.

Wanda raised her hands along the wall. 

“Don’t shoot. I’ll answer your questions. Let me turn around,” she rasped. The fear in her voice was not feigned.

"No way, _magies teef_."

She was starting to regret not running when she had the chance. She had to risk a fight. Magic tingled at her splayed fingertips. It would come down to his reaction time versus hers.

"Stop!" A familiar voice shouted from the end of the alley.

The distraction was perfectly timed. She jerked a hand. With the movement, the gun clattered to the ground. She spun around in the same moment, grasping the head of her assailant with both hands. She overwhelming his mind with a powerful psychic blow. He dropped like a stone, unconscious.

Wanda caught her breath, leaning against the wall. 

Then she remembered the voice.

She whirled in the direction it came from, fists clenched and glowing with magic held barely in check. 

"Get out of-?" she began to snarl but the words dried up as the towering stranger stepped forward into the light. His gaze locked with hers. Her hands fell to her sides.

She knew those sky blue eyes.

“Vis?”

> ✧ <

_you must've come from out of the blue_   
_no other color would do_

> ✧ <

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp hope i got that afrikaans right..
> 
> a whole chapter apart!! i almost couldn't bear it. but also i love Vis moping.
> 
> thanks for the kudos ya'll! means a lot to this newb writer.
> 
> as to ally's question, i'm hoping to edit a chapter a day, get this whole thing posted by the end of this week. trying to do NaNoWriMo this year so reeeally gotta be done with this by Nov 1.


	4. A Conciliatory Croissant

> ✧ <

_can we just talk? can we just talk?_   
_talk about where we're goin'_   
_before we get lost, lend me your thoughts_

> ✧ <

Since their parting, Vision had imagined seeing Wanda again a hundred different ways. Generally it involved him saving her from a dangerous threat, earning her begrudging gratitude. Or, in his wilder fantasies, they bumped into each other on the street and she recognized him with a surprised gasp. "Is that really you?" she would say, with an appreciative glance all along his body, then throw herself into his waiting arms.

Now the moment had come and they were standing in a Parisian alleyway and a body lay at her feet and her chest heaved slightly as adrenaline seeped out of her and all he could do was stare. His heart lightened at the sight of her, alive and well. Her hair was a different shade, the exact color impossible to determine under the amber streetlight. She wore a black blazer, the tantalizing edge of something red and lacy peeking underneath. She looked like a modern siren, off to find her willing victims in the night. 

And she was staring at him like she'd seen a ghost.

“Yes, it’s Vision. You’re safe now,” Vision said. He said it as much to reassure himself, letting go of the terror that surged within him when he spotted her held at gunpoint.

Her mouth twisted at his words. "Yes, thanks to me." Then she seemed to remember herself and a grim expression came over her.

She was reading his mind. He felt recent memories bubble up, not of his volition. He said nothing, only smiled gently, opening one palm, the bouquet of roses held in the other. Anything he could do make it clear he meant no harm. 

Wanda completed her investigation and released his mind, but her expression remained wary. 

"How did you find me?"

"I knew you were in Paris. When I got here, the mindstone led me to you. It knew exactly where you were," he explained in a faintly awed voice. The stone worked like a dowsing device, zigzagging Vision down side streets and alleys. He'd guessed where it might lead, for there was no one but Wanda with any connection to the mindstone in this city. Still, his correct guess didn't lessen his shock when he came upon the mouth of the alley and saw her.

Wanda only nodded, digesting the information. Before he could launch into explaining why he sought her, she gestured at the roses.

"What are those?"

"Oh yes, these! They're for you," he replied as he proffered his gift. 

Wanda took the bouquet, grabbing it awkwardly high to avoid brushing his hand. She stared at the roses like they were a bouquet of snakes.

Hrm, Vision thought, this may turn out to be another ill-fated intuition.

She threw the floral peace offering to the ground.

> ✧ <

Wanda reeled, besieged by conflicting emotions, her own and Vision's. She could barely draw a line between them. It happened like this sometimes, with those she was close to, when their emotions ran high. Her powers grew more empathic, sopping up the feelings bleeding into her reading.

She had barely been able to parse Vision's intentions amidst his riotous emotions: shock, pleased relief mingled with ebbing fear and concern over her injuries. Hope touched by wariness. He did not know how she was going to react to seeing him again. A memory of her furious face in the rain flashed in his mind.

Wanda's own emotions mirrored his to some extent. Initial shock, followed by cautious happiness to see her friend again. A feeling she promptly squashed, because they were not friends anymore. She should not be pleased to see him.

He left her to the Raft without looking back. He didn't get to come swooping back into her life like that never happened. Anger crashed over Wanda like a wave, washing away any instinctive comfort she felt. Was he actually trying to smooth away his betrayal with fucking flowers? What did he think this was, a romcom?

"Are you fucking kidding me, Vis? What are you really doing here?"

“I- You're in danger. I came here to warn you,” the blue-eyed stranger responded, stumbling over his words. He glanced down at the crumpled heap of roses, a faint crease at his brow.

"You flew across the Atlantic to tell me, a wanted criminal, that I need to watch my back for danger." He was supposed to be in New York. She never would have come in the first place if she'd known he would be here.

"Not just any danger. The Secretary knows you're here right now. They're sending in a professional to take care of you. They might already be in the city. We must get you to safety," Vision said in a rush.

"We?"

"I am here to escort you. I'll protect you until we can negotiate with the Secretary to call off his dogs."

"What are you talking about? Vis, we can't be seen together."

"No one else knows of this form. No one will recognize me."

He genuinely believes I'll just forgive him, Wanda thought. Only blunt words would get through to him. "I don't want your help."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't trust you."

"Wanda, I promise, I am not operating on any Accords business. I am acting on my own. Because I care for your wellbeing. I am only trying to help you."

Wanda raised her eyes to the sky. What a load of bullshit. 

"I know where your loyalties lie. The moment Stark gives you the order to bring me in, you'll do it."

"He won't. I won't."

"He did. And you did. And you can't take it back," she growled. She didn't want to look at him a moment longer. He was stirring up memories of their fight, of the Raft. The moment when he held her on the airfield and she'd foolishly believed he'd stay with her. He was supposed to stay out of her life, another bad memory to seal in her vault.

Wanda turned from him, throwing a parting shot over her shoulder. 

"Goodbye. Thanks for the warning."

Her words echoed off the close alley walls. She strode away, unsure of the direction of her apartment. Not caring, as long as she could get out of his sight.

Wanda felt a rush of wind, bringing her to a halt. Vision landed before her, crowding into her space. He rested a hand on her upper arm, gently, in a grip she could easily slip out of. He had touched her like this once before. The last time he tried to make her stay. 

"Wanda, please. I do not want to leave things between us like this."

He was so close, Wanda couldn’t help but study him. He didn’t look like her Vision but it was definitely Vision. Same eyes, same cheekbones, same soft lips, only set in a pale face. He even had hair, fine and lightly colored. With his fitted crisp white button-down, black tie, and pressed trousers, he looked like an alluring stranger, the kind she might pass on the street and wonder where he was going. 

Wanda blinked and took a step back, snatching her arm from his grip. She balanced on the balls of her feet, tempted to make a run for it. But she knew she wouldn’t make it far. She needed to scare him off for good.

"You made your choice, Vis. You can't have it both ways. We don't get everything we want," she said the words slowly, carefully.

"I only want to keep you safe. I can protect you, if only you'll let me."

She didn't understand why he was being so stubborn about this. She hadn't wanted it to come to this. But he wasn't listening.

Her hands glowed red as she stretched them apart like she was making a cat's cradle. A shining ball formed between them. Her magic appeared shimmering, blurring Vision's form like a mirage. He went rigid as he watched her like prey caught in a trap. She held him in her psychic sway, though she did not push him away.

"Don't do this," he said through gritted teeth.

"I can look after myself. Go home, Vis. Don't make me force you," she said, her tone final.

He stared at her. She caught a note of frustrated anger, quickly suppressed. It annoyed her that he could make her so furious, while she barely managed to pique him.

Finally Vision raised his hands. 

"I'll go," he said, defeated.

She let shining magical ball fizzle out but her hands stayed up, flicks of red dancing about her fingertips. Released from her binding, Vision stepped back. He turned to walk away. She watched him go.

He turned back once, his expression inscrutable at this distance. Then he was around the corner and gone. Hopefully out of Wanda's life for good.

> ✧ <

Wanda started packing as soon as she got home. She may not want anything to do with Vision but she knew from his memories that his warning was genuine.

Good thing she got all the information she needed. She’d even managed to glean an address in Brussels from Klaue’s unconscious lieutenant back in the alley. If she kept moving, hopefully she could dodge whoever might be hunting her.

She texted the information and her plan to N'Dele, leaving out the bit about her being a possible assassination target. He would arrange for her travel to Brussels. Hopefully she could get going on the first train out of Paris.

Packing didn’t take long, as she always traveled light. The War Dogs took care of anything else she might need on a mission; she had found the very outfit she wore tonight waiting at her doorstep this morning. 

Now she stripped it off, changing back into her more nondescript traveling look of skinny jeans and a black hoodie. She was a little sad to leave the silk blazer and trouser set - they were some of the finest things she’d ever worn. But they would only get crumpled in her old duffel. She hoped the art student found a use for them.

The red bustier though, that was definitely coming with her.

Once she snagged her toothbrush from the bathroom, she was set. All she had to do was wait for her contact to forward the train tickets.

Wanda sat on the futon and began levitating objects around the room as a way to pass time and avoid thinking about Vision. It was an old habit from her HYDRA days. She remembered how she struggled for days to juggle some blocks in her cell. She’d been so exhilarated when she got the trick of it. One of the first times she set a goal, and achieved it for herself.

Now she tossed things aloft with unthinking ease, idly spinning her phone, a mug, a book, and a pen for extra challenge. Her mind emptied as she set her will to balancing each object in the air. Her breathing evened out.

Pietro had always been the fiery one. She was supposed to be cold. Yet running into Vision tonight had flooded her with feelings. 

She hadn't expected to feel such powerful relief when she saw him again. A relief laced with aching sadness.

She also hadn't realized how much fury she still clung to. She thought she'd gotten it out of her system when she screamed at him back on the Raft. From then on she'd tried to forget him, just another in a long line of people she couldn't depend on.

She should have known it wouldn't be so easy to forget. Because she had depended on him. The Avengers had been a new family, one she was slowly but surely opening up to, over the course of weeks training together, eating together, hanging out together. Like an inevitable subtle brainwashing. She'd even learned to tolerate Stark.

But she never felt this angry towards Stark. After all, he'd only met her pessimistic expectations.

Vision had truly betrayed her. Because, of all her found family, she had let him in closer than any of them. She didn't even know how it happened. But somehow, without meaning to, she'd succumbed to his innocent nosiness. Over walks, flights, late nights on the tv couch, she'd been lulled by those wise eyes, that expression without judgment, those unexpectedly discerning questions. She'd thought he understood her.

 _I want the world to see you as I do_.

Maybe he meant it. But he didn't value her over the rest of humanity whom he served. Some rational side of her supposed she couldn't fault him for following what he'd been programmed to do.

But it still hurt when he left her to her fate.

Yes, he tried to warn her of imminent danger. She supposed that counted as an olive branch. But it felt like too transparent a ploy to get back in her good graces. He thought they could just go back to teaming up like the old days. 

What he had to learn was that once someone broke her trust, they never got it back.

Her phone buzzed. She set the floating objects down one by one, finally drawing the phone into her palm. One ticket, 6 AM, first class, heading to Brussels. She longed for a quick nap to recharge. But she needed to keep moving.

> ✧ <

Watching the footage of a hacked street camera from a roof vantage point fifty yards away, Vision saw Wanda leave the apartment building. Her form glowed red on his retinal display, highlighted in crowd scan mode. He'd been forced to get creative in his monitoring, knowing she would sense him the moment he entered her psychic radius. 

He would respect her wish that he stay out of her way. However much her rebuff perturbed him. But he refused to leave her without protection. 

He watched as she walked off purposefully in the direction of the closest Métro station. She was clad in a new disguise and carrying a duffel bag. 

Well, at least she appeared to have taken his warning to heart.

He was still exasperated with her. He tried to let go of the negative emotion. But it kept returning to gnaw at him. He knew he should be understanding. He tried to reason out her side, his usual approach to managing interpersonal frustration. But it didn't work this time. 

Frankly, he thought mulishly, she was being unreasonable. 

He understood she resented him for his part, or rather his inaction, that led to her imprisonment on the Raft. It was true he left her that day on the airfield, yes. But only to check on Colonel Rhodes, the poor man he himself had very nearly killed. He had been so preoccupied with rushing the colonel off to the hospital, all other concerns fell by the wayside. 

As they needed to. That was how effective triage worked.

So he hadn't realized until it was too late that Wanda had been arrested and taken directly to a confinement facility. And Vision had no idea of the conditions of said facility until Stark reported what he saw there. He would never have agreed to her being treated like a dangerous animal. He would have found a way, within the law, to free her.

He couldn't completely absolve himself, of course. He had an inkling what might happen to her, if she resisted. He tried to tell her.

If she had only listened then. They might still be teammates. Friends.

Seeing her made Vision realize he couldn't go on like this. He refused to abide the cold mask she raised against him. He used to be the one for whom her expression gentled. He craved their old closeness. He wasn't sure how he could make up with her, when she couldn't stand his presence longer than it took to fleece his mind of information. He had little hope she'd let him explain his side of the story anytime soon.

It was going to be an uphill battle with her, he was certain. But worthwhile.

He saw Wanda walk around a corner, disappearing from his eyesight. Her red form remained visible on his scanner overlay. Vision began moving along the roof, still following at an adequate distance. He hoped that by tailing her this way, he might spot any threats and deal with them before they even reached her.

Vision recalled the name the Secretary had dropped, Elektra. The Secretary did not underestimate Wanda. There was no doubt she would prove a formidable enemy. Whoever she was, she covered her tracks well. He found no record of her on the public internet, and only smatterings of vague mentions in the few private networks he checked. All he really learned was the chilling myth of her namesake, the Greek princess who murdered her own mother.

An incoming call flashed on Vision's retinal overlay. Tony Stark's portrait, sporting a facetious grin. He wanted to ignore it. He needed to stay focused on his mission. But if Tony was in trouble and he didn't answer...

He reluctantly opened his telecommunication app.

"Yes?"

"Did you find her?"

"Yes."

"You heading back yet?"

"Not yet."

"Why the hell not?"

"She won't listen to me. I have to make sure she's safe."

"So what, you're stalking her? Pro tip: do not do that."

"It would not be necessary if she accepted my assistance." 

"Oka-ay, touchy. But, c'mon Vis, she's a tough girl. Besides, I'm sure he-who-must-not-be-named wouldn't send her out without backup." 

"As far as I can tell she is alone. I still don't know why she's here in the first place."

Tony went quiet for several seconds.

"Alright I get you're not going to let this go. I did say a week. Of course at the time I didn't realize it would be the same week as an earthquake, two minor alien incursions, and a state dinner," Tony muttered. He let out a sigh. "But it's fine! Just keep me posted."

"I will, sir."

Vis made to close the connection when Tony said, "And, Vis?"

"Yes?" He barely kept the impatience out of his voice.

"Don't let her break your heart again."

The call ended.

Well, Vision thought, that was a dramatic way of putting it. They were just friends. 

Vision glanced back toward the Métro station, expecting Wanda’s highlighted red form to pop back into view.

But she was gone. His gut clenched.

He'd lost her.

Vision told himself this was completely fine. She couldn't have gone far. He began triangulating potential routes based on time elapsed and her estimated walking speed. She was heading to a transit station. Probably an inter-country train, to put as much distance between her and the assassin. Using these clues, he tried to narrow down the possibilities. 

He hadn't gotten far down the list when a searing pain emanated from his forehead as the mind stone went haywire.

> ✧ <

Wanda cut over to the gated gardens nearby. She had spotted them on her way to her job earlier in the evening. At that time it had been filled with people, mostly younger adults just off work, catching up as they killed time before dinner.

Now the place was empty and dark. Wanda made the impulse decision to walk through it, even if it took her out of the way of the station. The assassin had cut short her planned sightseeing, so she had to squeeze in one last Parisian experience. 

With a quick psychic pulse to be sure no one was nearby, she propelled herself over the fence.

She stuck the landing with such perfect control, light as a bird alighting upon a branch. She almost wished someone had seen it. She had come a long way from her initial near-fatal attempts at using her powers to fly. 

The first time Wanda tried to fly, HYDRA agents had taken her and Pietro out to an open field near the compound. They all took several steps back, as she struggled to calm her pounding heart and attempted liftoff. In those days she had absolutely no finesse when exercising her magic - it was either on or off, like a faucet. 

So when red beams came roaring from her hands, she shot nearly fifty feet into the air. 

Wanda immediately panicked. She first tried cutting off her magic, only to plummet just as quickly back down to earth. Then she tried using only one hand, but she only managed to toss herself sideways. Still, better than freefalling straight down. Sick with terror, she ping-ponged her way back down to the ground.

Pietro, waiting below, managed to catch her. The force of her landing knocked them both sprawling. For a moment, they both lay stunned on the hardened earth. 

Then Pietro laughed, that loud and obnoxious guffaw of his. Wanda tried to quell him with a glare as she sat up. Then she snorted. Then helpless laughter built up within her until it spilled out of her. And then they were both laughing together, the faintly hysterical laughter of two young idiots given unimaginable power beyond their wildest dreams that they could never hope to fully control. 

The supervising HYDRA guards looked on, baffled, as the two of them nearly laughed themselves sick.

Wanda's throat closed at the unexpected memory. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed.

Forcibly shifting her attention elsewhere, she gazed about the shadowy park through which she walked. Her boots scuffed on the gravel path as she came upon a wide circular pool, encased by a low stone wall. The full moon shown down upon the still black surface. 

Wanda stepped right up to the enclosing wall. She slipped her duffle off her shoulder. She leaned down and dipped a finger in the water. It was cool. Probably filthy. But a childlike impulse made her drag her hand in the pool again. She watched the moonlight wink off the ripples she made. 

She and Pietro used to sail little wooden boats on a pond just like this in their town square. They walked there as a family every Sunday.

Too many memories tugged at her. Sorrow threatened to drag her under. She smashed a fist into the pool, cracking the silence with the slap of water.

He was gone. There was no point in dredging up that pain.

For a span of a moment Wanda stood gazing at the water ripples. Even the sounds of the distant city had gone quiet.

A flicker of intuition shivered through her. She tensed. It was the only warning got before someone grabbed her by the back of the head and shoved her down.

Wanda braced her hands against the wall as her head was plunged under the surface. Water immediately filled her ears and mouth. It was murky and cold. An elbow dug into her back, a point at which her attacker used all their weight to pin her. Her hair coiled about her face, covering her mouth. She panicked and flailed, trying to shove off her attacker. But it was useless; they held her in an iron grip. She struggled and struggled against the hold but she had no leverage. 

So this was what Vision had tried to warn her about. The State department was not fucking around.

In that instant, Wanda's training reasserted itself. She went still, centering herself. She blew out her last breath and held it. She marshaled her powers to her hands. 

In an explosion of movement, she executed a disarming move Steve had drilled into her hundreds of times, strengthening her shove with a simultaneous exertion of magic. The maneuver worked and her enemy was thrown to the side. 

Only to roll nimbly to her feet. 

Swiping her damp hair out of her face, Wanda took in every detail she could in the brief window she'd won for herself. Two swords strapped to the assassin's back. Sleeveless bodysuit, hair swept tight in a high ponytail. The red scarf obscuring all but the woman's dark eyes. Dimly, Wanda thought the look was incredibly badass.

How the fuck had this woman gotten the jump on her? Only minutes earlier Wanda had been completely alone. She was absolutely sure of it. Wanda would have heard the assassin's thoughts long before she got within striking distance. Even now, the other woman's mind remained closed to her senses as if she didn't exist.

So whoever this was, she couldn't be human.

The assassin didn't give her a second to breathe. She charged at Wanda, who braced for a flurry of punches. Only the assassin dropped at the last second, sliding into a low kick to knock Wanda off her feet. Wanda propelled herself backward with a burst of magic at her hands, making sure to stay facing her opponent. 

There was no running from this fight. The moment she turned her back, that woman would take her down.

A car passed by, sounding too loud, too close. Shit. She'd gotten too close to the street. Wanda couldn't afford to let this battle spill out into an area with bystanders. She needed to keep things contained to this dark park.

Forced to close the distance between them, Wanda tried to go on the offensive. She thrust her arms forward, shooting a wave of red magic. 

The assassin, as if preternaturally warned, executed a graceful flip over the oncoming attack. Quick as lightning, she was back on Wanda.

Wanda could barely defend against the onslaught of jabs and kicks, catching each blow with her magic before it landed. The woman moved with efficient speed and the kind of easy grace that only came from thousands of hours of perfecting her moves. Wanda had sparred with Nat enough to recognize that her opponent had also been trained from early childhood. 

Though Wanda could hold her own against Nat these days, even Nat had always held something back during training. This woman had no such mercy.

"Who are you?" Wanda asked. Maybe Wanda could get her talking, make her sloppy. A trick that worked often enough with megalomaniac supervillains.

The woman said nothing. She only watched Wanda with pitiless eyes. Then launched into her next sequence of attacks.

Wanda veered away from the first punch, but was too late by a fraction of a second to block the second. 

Her head snapped back with the force of it. 

It almost took her down, but she kept to her feet, head ringing. She didn't feel the black eye yet but it would be ripe and purple by tomorrow morning. If she survived that long.

The assassin's lethal intent was palpable. Every motion aimed to maim. Yet Wanda wondered why she hadn't reached for her swords. 

Shit. _Shit._ The assassin wasn't trying to kill Wanda. She was going for incapacitation. Which could mean only one thing. She was here to return Wanda to the Raft.

The realization filled Wanda with desperate resolve. She would never go back. She needed to end this now. 

Instead of dodging, Wanda threw herself into the oncoming jab. Her tackle took them both down, Wanda landing on top. No time to lose. She grasped the sides of the woman's head in her hands. She poured a powerful psychic attack into the woman's mind, the same way she brought down Klaue's lackey earlier that night. She held nothing back, past caring if she knocked the assassin into a coma.

Her attack came crashing against a mental wall. The assassin was completely unaffected. 

In the time it took Wanda to realize her miscalculation, her opponent flipped her. The assassin dug a knee into Wanda's back and wrenched her right arm back. Wanda cried out as she felt her shoulder dislocate. Only pure panic saved her, as she instinctively released a flailing shockwave of magic that threw off the assassin.

Fuck. She was so fucked. She was exhausted and bruised and now she had a useless arm. And the woman was immune to her psychic abilities. Fuck fuck fuck.

Wanda ran. 

She’d take her chances in the streets with bystanders. She looked like the victim in this situation. Maybe someone would try to arrest the assassin and she could slip away before anyone recognized her. 

Wanda didn't even hear the footsteps behind her before she was tackled to the ground. She bit off a sobbing scream as the fall jostled her dislocated shoulder. The pain dizzied her.

"No, no, no, stay away from me," Wanda gasped, abject terror sweeping through her. The assassin began methodically arranging Wanda's arms behind her, preparing to bind her with something. Probably the power-dampening manacles they'd used at the Raft.

Wanda panted with exhaustion and fear. She couldn't. She'd be left there to die all alone.

No. If she was going to die, let it be here. On her own terms. She visualized the blades strapped to the assassin's back. She could lift one from its sheath. Use it on the assassin or herself. Whichever came easier.

Wanda jerked the hand that wasn't pinned beneath her. The sword sang as it slid from its sheath. She yanked it down.

But there was no cry of pain. She turned her head as much as she could, looking back out of the corner of her eye.

The sword hung poised just between the assassin's shoulders. She held its blade in a tight grip. Blood dropped from her fist where the sharp edges cut into her palm. She glared down at Wanda. A strong shove smacked Wanda's head into the ground. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She teetered on the edge of consciousness.

"Unhand her!" The voice, so absurdly formal for this situation, echoed strangely in her head.

Then the weight lifted from her back. She heard the sound of a body whistling through the air. Wanda curled on her side, gasping for breath. There came a sickening crunch as a body hit the stone wall.

Wanda tilted her head just enough to glance at Vision standing over her. He was looking in the direction that he must have hurled the assassin. 

He'd stayed. Of course he had. She should be irritated that he'd flagrantly ignored her order to leave her alone. 

But if he had, she might be on her way to the Raft now.

"Not another step," Vision said, loud and clear. Angry. The air in front of his forehead shimmered with golden heat. "I truly do not wish to incinerate you."

Wanda couldn’t see the assassin. Would she try to take on Vision? The assassin was strong. Clearly had some enhanced abilities. But Vision was just as deadly underneath his gentle demeanor. Wanda closed her eyes and almost wished the woman would be so foolhardy as to challenge him.

Moments passed. Wanda couldn't focus on what was happening. Everything hurt.

Suddenly Vision's face swam above her. Wanda tried to sit up, but the movement stretched her shoulder. She dropped back down, wheezing.

Vision's arm appeared at her back, supporting her in a second attempt to get vertical. This time she succeeded. For a moment Wanda could only catch her breath as the terror of the fight drained from her. She gazed at Vision's worried face, dazed. He still wore his new form.

"Wanda, can you be moved? I will take you to a hospital."

"No, no, it's alright. I'll heal them. You go."

"I am coming with you."

"Don't be stupid."

"You are being stubborn. Let me help you."

"I've got it."

With that resolution, Wanda tried to stand. She made it to her feet, stiffly, moving her dangling arm as little as possible. Only to nearly go down again as blood rushed from her head. 

Vision reacted swiftly. He gripped her uninjured side, keeping her steady.

It was in that moment, Wanda could tell, Vision came the closest to rolling his eyes he had ever been in his life.

> ✧ <

It was slow-going but they finally made it back to her apartment. Thank goodness it was in the same neighborhood. 

Vision helped Wanda ease onto the narrow chair at the two-person table in the center of the room. He felt like a clumsy giant in the tiny studio.

The light dangling from the ceiling made her wounds show up stark against her pale skin. Vision assessed the damage. Something inside him twinged with sympathy at her black eye. The sight of her arm, dangling unnaturally from its socket, filled him with fury. That Elektra woman had been bloodthirsty.

Wanda looked calm, which was impressive. The pain must be excruciating now that the adrenaline had faded.

Vision squeezed into the closet-sized bathroom and returned with the only clean towels he could find. He rolled up a small hand towel and passed it to Wanda. She looked at it dubiously.

"I'm going to have to set your arm," he said, brow furrowing at the prospect. 

Wanda snatched the towel with a grimace. It spoke to her level of pain that she acquiesced so readily.

"Let's get it over with," she growled, before biting down on the towel.

Vision gestured for Wanda to lay down on her back on the futon. Kneeling by her side, he held her wrist with both of his hands. Her own hand felt cold.

"Try to relax," he said gently. Wanda breathed in and out slowly through her nose.

Vision hesitated. This was going to hurt. He wished he didn’t have to put her through this. But she needed treatment.

Slowly, as carefully as he could, he began moving her straightened arm in small circular motions. Keeping the motion, he began shifting it up towards her head. The combination of movements should do the trick. In theory.

Wanda made no sound. A drop of sweat dripped down her cheek. Vision imagined he could feel her pain as if it were his own. The quicker he did this, the sooner she could recover.

After a few more rotations, he had it. With a slight jerk, he cinched her arm back into its socket.

Wanda released a hissing breath, muffled by the towel. Her eyes shone. They were the only signs of her discomfort. Even now she leashed her expression, refusing to reveal weakness. Vision wished she could just let herself scream.

She hadn't always been so guarded with him. It hurt to see her act this way. Like he were little more than a stranger.

"Now let's see about bringing down the swelling in your eye," Vision said, sounding forcibly chipper even to his own ears. He spotted the kitchenette's short fridge and knelt to open it, hoping for ice cubes.

"Don't bother," Wanda responded. She slowly dragged herself to her feet and headed to the bathroom. She stopped at the mirror. Absently she patted down a wayward frizz of her mostly dried hair. Vision followed her, leaning against the doorjamb, watching curiously.

Wanda eyed him sidelong and leaned away. 

"A little breathing room would be nice," she said curtly.

Vision blinked and took a step back.

After a few experimental wrist rolls on the side of her relocated shoulder, Wanda raised the now-glowing hand to her face, staring intently in the mirror. Under her featherlight touch, her lip knit itself back together. Fresh skin smoothed over each cut and abrasion on her face. She finished up by brushing the fingers of each hand along the opposite palm, making the raw redness return to healthy pink. He noticed the black eye remained swollen.

Vision was amazed. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Yeah. Finally figuring out some tricks HYDRA didn't care to look into," Wanda replied. She shoved past Vision to grab the towel he'd left on the table and return to the sink to run it under cold water, during which time Vision raised his hands for a second, only to drop them uselessly. 

He was beginning to pick up on her disinclination to ask for further assistance.

"How did you learn?"

"Videos mostly. Got to observe some field medics a few times," she said nonchalantly. Vision perked up at her volunteering of information about her life after the Raft. Though it was little enough to go on.

"But you can't heal your arm or your bruised eye?" Vision was utterly fascinated by this development.

"No. Just shallow cuts and things." Wanda went to sit on the futon. Tilting her head back, she pressed the chilled towel to her eye. Her injured arm remained awkwardly stiff beside her, as if she could only stand to rest it at that precise angle. She didn't show any visible sign of relief. Vision supposed the towel could only help so much. She truly needed ice to numb it.

"I didn't find any ice in the fridge so I can go fetch some for that, if you like," he asked hesitantly.

"No. Just go. You've done your heroic duty," Wanda said without looking at him. Vision was not all that adept at picking up on sarcasm. But he knew Wanda's tells enough.

Unexpectedly, he felt piqued. How could he make amends if she shut him out at every turn? There was no need for her to act like this.

"I'm not leaving you, Wanda. Not while you're in danger. I thought I made that clear."

"Yeah, you made it pretty obvious by stalking me." Finally she looked towards him, hand holding the damp cloth in place in her face.

"It was not stalking! It was monitoring for your safety."

"Su-ure," she dragged out the word and paused meaningfully. More sarcasm, he detected. "But I told you I didn't need any protection. So why didn't you leave when I told you?" 

She was irritatingly calm for a woman who had been beaten bloody by the very threat he could have protected her against, if he'd been there. Suddenly it was too much. Vision's heart raced with frustration. She clearly wanted to fight. Well, she would have one.

"Because it was illogical! You would have died if I left, all for your stubborn pride!"

> ✧ <

Vision spoke the words harshly, his face angled in a fierce frown. Those blue eyes narrowed at her. No longer blue skies, but chips of ice.

Wanda blinked, taken a little off guard. Vision barely raised his voice. Ever. He'd never yelled at her before. 

So he was angry with her? How rich.

"Vis, it is not _illogical_ " - she spat the word disdainfully - "to distrust a former comrade who stabbed you in the back!"

"How can you say such a thing? We were on opposite sides of the Accords issue, yes. That doesn't mean I betrayed you!" 

He really didn't see it? Guess I need to spell it out for him, she thought.

"Vision. You promised you would protect me. You said it for everyone to hear in that meeting. And I believed you, trusting idiot that I am. You spoke for everyone, but I only believed it of you. But when it came time to stand by me? You dropped me and ran off to Stark like a well-trained dog. You sided with those monsters who see me as nothing but a menace to lock away and throw out the key."

"No! That was the last thing I wanted to happen. I didn't even know the Raft existed."

"Don't pretend. I know you're not that naive!"

"No, Wanda, why don't you understand? I never meant to leave you alone to face them. If it hadn't been for what I did to Colonel Rhodes-" he cut off sharply. His short-lived fury deflated.

Wanda said nothing, studying Vision. He looked more upset than she had ever seen him. She could sense the distress rolling off him. 

She couldn't understand it. She thought she wasn't important to him anymore. It had been ten months since they'd seen each other. So why was he suddenly acting like he cared?

"I just don't understand why, Vis. Why are you suddenly helping me now? Why haven't you arrested me? We're on opposite sides, remember?" 

And I'm supposed to be very angry with you, she added in her head. But it was proving difficult to remember that, in the face of his obvious pain. 

It may have taken ten months, but he did come for her. She really didn't know what might have happened if he hadn't shown up back there. She'd certainly been prepared for the worst. 

Loathe as she was to admit it, she was glad he'd scared off that terrifying assassin. Even now she felt safe in his presence. 

Vision regarded her solemnly for a long moment before speaking quietly. "I want to keep you safe. While I still wish you would return to us and sign the Accords, I will not have you sealed away on the Raft. Or killed."

He was completely sincere, she knew. She didn't even need her powers to tell her so. She never really needed to with Vis, anyway. He was too unpracticed in deception. 

Her heart twisted. This damn android and his fledgling feelings. Even now he could still disarm her with a simple guileless declaration. 

She’d assumed he’d easily washed his hands of her the moment he left her on the airstrip. Their confrontation on the Raft had only confirmed that their friendship meant little to him in the face of the greater good.

Yet here he was, looking at her with an openly bereft expression. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to reconnect.

But he betrayed her. He didn’t get to flutter those puppy dog eyes at her and have everything go back to the way it was. She wasn't ready to forgive him for breaking his promise. And she wasn't sure if she would be.

Her cycling thoughts made her head hurt. This was too much. The battle aches and exhaustion and emotional turmoil weighed on her like a ton of bricks and suddenly she just wanted to lay down.

"Vision. I can't do this right now. Please leave." Wanda turned away, grabbing the throw off the top of the futon and wrapping it around herself.

She ignored Vision, though she felt his eyes on her for some time. He seemed about to speak. Then thought better of it. 

She heard the door close softly behind him.

> ✧ <

The next morning Vision paid for a pair of croissants, too busy counting out exact change in coins in his palm to notice the cashier's appreciative gaze. 

Bribery supplies secured, Vision went to wait for Wanda, standing across from her apartment's entry. He wondered if it still counted as stalking if one arrived with delicious sustenance. 

The sun shown down on him, warming his skin pleasantly. He hoped the bright day might lift Wanda's mood. When he left her last night, she looked so sad and small, tucked against back of the futon under a lumpy blanket. 

It hurt, to see her curled in on herself so protectively, as if by looking away she might ward him away.

He didn't know what to do but persist. So here he was, hoping against hope that pastries and warm coffee might be the first step towards regaining the trust he'd shattered.

His timing proved almost impeccable. Wanda came tromping out the front door, wearing the same outfit she had the night before, the same old duffle over one shoulder. She stopped short at the sight of him waiting for her. He waved his coffee-laden hands hesitantly.

Wanda strode right up to him. She eyed him a moment.

"Well, is one of those for me?"

"Oh, no, both for me. I was planning to save this one for later."

He grinned weakly. She glared at him. Ah then, too soon for bad jokes. He handed her the coffee meekly.

"So you're not giving up then."

"No."

She took a sip of coffee. Closed her eyes. The corner of her mouth lifted with the tiniest of curves. Vision's heartbeat upticked at the sight.

"Why are you here, Vision?"

She didn't sound angry now. Just tired and genuinely confused.

He knew she could read his intentions for herself. But such readings, Vision knew from Wanda's description, were always frustratingly general. She needed to hear him say why.

He didn't completely understand it himself. The moment he learned of her whereabouts, he made the decision to seek her out without any consideration. The warning was a convenient excuse that he used as rationalization. But he knew this impulse was motivated by deep feelings within him.

He had no idea how to articulate such things to her, but her eyes demanded answers. So he began to speak.

"Ever since we parted I have been," he paused, searching for the word, "adrift. There's no other way to explain it. I perform my duty, go wherever they send me. And then I come back to headquarters and no one is there. Mr. Stark is gone. He can't bear to return. Ocassionally I see Colonel Rhodes, training new recruits. We do not speak. So I wander the halls and then I see the place on the couch where you always sat and I wonder where you are and what you're doing and then I worry that you're sad and no one has thought to make you paprikash." He stopped, suddenly self-conscious of his babbling. 

Wanda said nothing in response. She took another sip of her coffee, expression inscrutable. Vision held his breath. If she told him to go, this time he would do it.

"So that's why I came to find you. The danger was real, but also an excuse. I just wanted to see you and ascertain you were well. And perhaps dissolve the bad blood between us."

"So this team-up, bodyguarding, whatever you want to call it. This is you trying to make it up to me," she said, eyeing him thoughtfully.

"Yes, I suppose I am," he said with a little shrug.

Wanda yawned.

"Fine." With one word, she made Vision's heart soar. "I'll give you one more chance. Come with me to Brussels. I've got business there. Then we part ways."

Vision smiled wide. Then his expression slid back to solemn. "Thank you, Wanda. For permitting me this chance."

She gazed at his face a few moments longer than necessary. She blinked. Then sniffed.

"Is that a croissant?"

> ✧ <

_if you're gonna try me_   
_i won't make it easy_   
_gonna give you my tough love_

> ✧ <

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so disclaimer on this one: this Elektra pretty much just looks like Elektra from the Daredevil show but otherwise doesn't share the same story (cuz i never watched it). so here she's just a world-class assassin with some extra ninja mind powers that she has in some comics. 
> 
> oh and to clarify timelines, first two chapters were set at the very end of Age of Ultron, then during Civil War. from here to the end of the fic, we're post-Civil War but pre-Infinity War (by a year or so). 
> 
> basically this is just me filling in the wiiiide romance plot gaps the movies left for me :-)


	5. An Inflitration of the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops this turned out long!

> ✧ <

_i didn’t know i was lonely ’til i saw your face_

> ✧ <

As soon as Wanda realized Vision intended to cover all their expenses, including but not limited to their first class seats, she ordered a full-course meal. She started with a bloody mary, fully intending to working her way through the drink menu over the course of their hour and a half journey. True, it was barely noon, but she wanted to do as much damage to Stark's bottom line while she could.

Vision asked if the waiter would be so kind as to bring him a cup of hot tea. Wanda scoffed inwardly. The android probably cost Stark a couple hundred dollars a year in upkeep.

As soon as the server moved on, Vision returned to gazing out the window, resting his chin against the backs of his fingers as he watched the urban center transmute into ordinary suburbia. The silence between them was slowly killing Wanda. Vision, of course, didn't seem to mind. Back when they were friends, he had always been more than happy to entertain himself with idle data analysis or whatever else he liked to daydream about when she needed quiet. Their shared silences used to be comfortable.

This one felt prickly, filled with angry words said and unsaid. Wanda hadn't factored this into her decision when she decided to let Vision accompany her. She just thought there was no point in pushing him away if he was going to trail her anyway. So at least next time she was attacked she might not end up with a nearly broken arm.

Now she sat in tongue-tied limbo with someone who had once been her friend, perhaps even the closest thing she had in the world to a best friend. She didn't want to be the immature one who refused to be civil. She had gotten most of her anger out anyway. She wasn't going to keep demanding an apology. But she wanted it, dammit. 

So she sat pondering which topics of small talk might successfully lead them through this emotional minefield. The problem was that she was no good at idle chatter. Instead, blunt questions coiled in her throat. What was it like being the last working Avenger? Did he regret his choice? And when did he learn to wear this new form anyway?

She was still not used to Vision's human form. She stole glances when she could, too proud to stare openly and study him the way she secretly wanted to. Every now and then, when she looked away then back at him, she felt a split second of nonrecognition. 

That she found this stranger rather attractive only further unnerved her. One could call Vision's true form beautiful, in an aloof, alien way. But this form, tall, fair, slim, with features perfectly balanced between soft and angled, had a disarmingly approachable sort of beauty. She could almost picture him smoldering from one of her fashion magazines.

Too weird.

Their food arrived promptly, providing a much-needed diversion from over-analyzing his glow-up. Bored out of her skull by the prospect of silently eating the salad in front of her, Wanda decided to break the silence. She could keep this professional.

"So no one else knows about this form?"

Vision blinked and finally peeled his gaze from the window.

"Ah, no. Only Mr. Stark. It is my secret identity for now."

Wanda nodded. It made sense. And it was useful for them. No way could Vision be recognized with her without causing an international incident. Reminded of her own flimsy disguise, she warily tugged her hair in a curtain blocking her face from the aisle.

"When did you start using it?" she asked, finally uncorking that curiosity she had held back on their initial reunion.

"Only a month or so after- that is, last summer," he replied, not so skillfully avoiding mention of the Avenger's breakup. Wanda really wanted to know why he'd decided to try it. But it felt too personal. The kind of question she might have asked easily when they were friends.

Instead she stuck to the technical, always a safe bet with Vision. “How did you learn to do it?”

He shrugged. “I experimented with adjusting my form's appearance, with Tony’s help. It works in a slightly similar fashion to my phasing, but it took lots of practice to master. The face was the most difficult.” 

"Why?"

His expression went thoughtful. "I suppose it was the numerous small details that go into it. It's the part of your appearance others pay most attention to, so they're most likely to detect if something is off."

"You seem to have done a good job. Even I barely recognized you." Her gaze met his for a moment. "But your eyes are the same." 

She hadn't meant for that last part to come out. She didn't want him knowing that she knew the look of those inhuman eyes almost as well as her brother's. That she had found the shimmering blue discs of his iries strange and utterly beautiful the moment she first saw them up close.

Vision, luckily, was oblivious, as usual, to her blunder. 

"Oh yes, I'm afraid I've given up on those for now. The human eye is an astonishingly complex thing. The cornea alone!" He chuckled slightly at himself. "If they notice anything amiss, I think people generally assume they're contacts."

Wanda hummed in noncommittal agreement, returning back to the task of eating her salad. But as she lifted her fork, a sharp nauseating ache ran through her arm, making her wince. She switched the utensil to her other hand, but the pain had driven away her appetite. 

"You've been favoring your injured arm. How does it feel?" Vision asked, concern visible in his face.

So he had noticed. He was always more observant than she gave him credit for, given his air of having his head in the clouds.

"A bit stiff. Still aches. But I'll live," she responded brusquely. She hated when he went into mother hen mode. 

"This mission you are on will not require any confrontation, I hope? I would strongly suggest you put minimal strain on yourself as it heals." There he went, clucking away.

"No, there shouldn't be any combat. Anyway, I'll fine. I have had worse."

Remembering something, Wanda rooted through her bag until she found her small bottle of painkillers from Wakanda. She popped a few in her mouth, then gestured with two thumbs up to show that she was completely fine.

Vision looked unconvinced but didn't press.

"So who was that woman who attacked me anyway?" she asked as she reattempted eating. She speared a few leaves with her fork, striving for nonchalance. 

"I overheard the name Elektra. I have been unable to find any details on her, besides the obvious fact that she is a highly experienced and sought-after assassin."

Obviously. At this point Wanda was well-trained enough that no ordinary person could have gotten the drop on her.

"She was immune to my mental attacks. I could work telekinesis on her, but I couldn't read her thoughts. It was like she had a shield over them." Her eyes narrowed in memory. Honestly, that had been the most disturbing part of the night. She didn't know people could protect their minds from her. Now she had to add "how to break mind-shields" to the long list of things she wished she could google about her powers. Just when she thought she was getting the hang of her abilities too.

Vision frowned, perturbed. "That is alarming to hear. From what I could make of her she appeared to be fully human. Perhaps she gained enhanced abilities through some unknown entity."

Wanda suppressed a grimace at the word "enhanced". She knew Vision used it only as a technical term. But the way the Secretary used to direct it at her, it felt almost like a slur.

"Think she'll come back?"

"Most likely. She may bide her time. Perhaps, if we're lucky, she'll try to renegotiate terms now that I have involved myself. I would ask for at least another million if I had to face myself," Vision said musingly.

"Good thing your schedule was wide open then," she quipped as she eyed him sidelong. "Seriously, don't you have world-saving to do?"

He seemed to consider the question. "Well, nothing immediately pressing," he said blandly. 

She couldn't help but smile at that. Just as quickly she wiped the expression from her face. It was too easy to slip back into their old mode. But she didn't want to pretend like everything was fine. She didn't want to let her guard down.

They lapsed into silence once more. Wanda pretended to fall asleep as Vision returned to watching the countryside trundle by.

> ✧ <

Once they arrived, Vision led Wanda to one of the finest hotels in the center of town, nestled among the Grand Place's ornate guildhouse facades, where he had arranged their stay in a penthouse suite. As they dropped off their bags Vision couldn't help smiling as Wanda took in the luxurious accommodations with wide eyes. She wandered about the suite, poking her head into the white-marble bathroom, choosing the room with the biggest bed for herself. 

Vision was not above a little bribery to get back into her good graces. It was a classic tactic deployed by his creator.

Divested of luggage, they promptly set off to find Klaue, the man they had come to find, as Wanda had briefly explained on the train.

She had gleaned from Klaue's lieutenant's mind the address of one of Klaue's warehouses, out in an industrial park by the train system's northernmost terminus. The lieutenant also gave up the crucial information that Klaue would be arriving sometime today for his quarterly inspection of the operation. 

Wanda drove their rented car. She wove in and out of traffic with worrying recklessness, given that he knew she had only obtained a driver's license within his short lifetime. But Vision didn't want to do or say anything to upset the fragile truce they had. So he kept his mouth shut. 

Wanda parked the car in a lot two blocks over from their destination: a large, unremarkable warehouse. She turned to Vision. 

"Alright, here's the plan. We're scouting only. We'll sit and wait for Klaue. The moment we know he's here, I'm supposed to notify-" she pondered her next words, "the group I'm working for. We let them take care of extracting him."

She went on, "So you can just hang out here and- guard me, I guess." Her mouth slanted in a wry expression.

Vision nodded. With Elektra off their trail, he didn't think they would face danger again so soon. With their situation, he imagined the Secretary would not send multiple assassins; the risk of a highly public showdown was too high. Still, maintaining the pretence of imminent danger meant he got to stay with Wanda. So he didn't volunteer any of this analysis.

After all, Wanda was keeping the details of her own venture on a strict need-to-know basis. He had no idea where she'd been for the past months, so he could only guess at the machinations behind this mission. She remained cagey about who she worked with. Vision guessed Steve and Natasha must be involved, though he was curious why they weren't at her side. If they had been, she never would have been caught alone by Elektra, he thought resentfully. 

Vision would take her orders without question. Perhaps she might recognize it as the gesture of trust he intended.

"Ah, so this is a stakeout. Just like in the crime procedurals."

"Yeah, sure."

"In your absence I've had a lot of time to watch TV," he explained.

"That's all you've been doing with your time?"

"Yes. Well, that, and looking at my painting."

"Your painting?"

Vision realized with a pang that he had never invited Wanda to his room during their time living at Avengers headquarters. They were always in the common area, or her room on rare occasions. Never at night though, after the door incident.

"I have a Van Gogh painting hanging in my room. It is called _The Mulberry Tree_. I like to look at it. It is nice."

"An original?"

"Yes."

She shook her head. "Stark spoils you."

He blinked. He supposed that might be true.

Before he could go on, Wanda held a finger to her lips. Following her gaze, he saw a man in workman's clothes walk towards their warehouse.

Wanda closed her eyes as she sent out a psychic probe after the man. Vision took advantage of the distracted moment to look at her profile. Wanda had told him early on that staring was "creepy", a lesson he tried to take to heart. But he still found a small pleasure in studying her face. She really hadn't done much to disguise herself. Her makeup was applied less heavily, which he found he preferred. It reminded him of how she looked on their days off. Her new red hair intrigued him with the multitude of shades it contained, everything between the dark amber of whiskey to white gold where it caught the sun.

Wanda's eyes shot open. Vision snapped out of his reverie. 

"It's the right place. Klaue is that guy's boss," she confirmed.

"So we wait."

"So we wait," she agreed.

They waited in near complete silence, until Wanda turned on the car radio. She found a station playing a mix of American, French, German, and Dutch songs. 

There was no sign of Klaue. Only two men ever left the warehouse for smoke breaks, always returning fifteen minutes on the dot. Vision got bored enough that he started trying to translate the radio lyrics in real time. Wanda raised an eyebrow at his attempts. He finally got one quirked smile out of her and counted that as a triumph.

Hours passed. Wanda reclined her seat completely. She looked peacefully asleep, but for the red tendrils emanating from her slowly rotating hands. 

Still no Klaue.

As the day drew to a close and a belly rumble echoed in the small car, Vision decided their intel was either incorrect or outdated.

"Surely we would have seen him by now. He must have been warned."

Wanda gripped the steering wheel, thinking. Then she opened the car door.

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered. He thought they were supposed to be covert.

“We can’t have come here for nothing. There’s gotta be something useful in there,” she responded as she slid out of her seat.

“Wait!”

Wanda turned back, ducking her head to meet his eyes through the car window. Her expression was stern.

“Stay here. You’ll just draw attention. I’ll be right back.”

And she left him. He watched her cross the street and slip into the service door they’d seen the workers use.

He debated ignoring her order and following anyway. He was trying to follow her lead, but this felt wrong. He should be by her side, facing any danger with her. That’s how it had always been. How it was supposed to be.

But now, it dawned on Vision, she didn’t even trust him to watch her back. 

They had reached an uneasy truce. Vision was pleased with that. Still, things felt strained between them. At first, when she agreed to let him join her, he hoped it was the sign that she was willing to return to the way things were. But whatever reconnection he had hoped for was simply not happening. With her guarded, stilted conversation, it was as if they’d reverted back to when they barely knew each other. Everything about her body language and behavior and words spoke of broken trust. Acting out this pale ghost of their former friendship felt somehow worse than not seeing her at all.

Not that their friendship had been particularly warm before. But he’d known she was different with him. To the rest of the world, she played the part of her moniker, a cold, mysterious witch. But with him, the act fell away, little by little. With him, she was a touch softer. More patient. Always sharp-tongued, but also more inclined to small smiles, which he treasured even when they were at his expense. Strangely he came to count himself lucky to be on the receiving end of her teasing barbs. For those subtle signs made him feel special, like he'd managed to tame some rare unknowable beast.

He hadn't even realized the name for what they had until it was too late. _I thought we were friends_ , she'd screamed at him on the landing platform of the Raft. More wrath in her voice than he'd ever heard before. Friendship, a distant part of him had wondered in epiphany, that was the name for the way he felt drawn to her.

Now, after all these months alone, he fully understood what he had sacrificed in his pursuit of the greater good. Their friendship.

So, in his brief time on Earth, Vision had proven he could make and break a friendship. Such immutability was a tenet of software. Create and destroy, only as needed. He needed social connection. By software logic, he should make a new bond with someone else. 

But he didn't want a new friend. He wanted Wanda back. 

Only, having exhausted his first and only plan to repair their relationship through the gift of caffeine and buttery pastry, Vision had no idea what the next step could possibly be.

After ten long minutes of brooding over this dilemma, Wanda returned. She looked unhurried and none the worse for wear, for which he was grateful.

"Let's go." 

"Did you find anything?"

"Yeah, maybe. But let's eat first. I'm starving."

> ✧ <

After dropping off the car at their hotel, Wanda dragged Vision to a nearby bar. She dug heartily into some sausages and potatoes while working her way through several tastings of the advertised 1000 beers on tap. She ignored Vision's expectant look, too hungry to care that she was keeping him in suspense.

Finally, as she polished off the perfectly crisped potatoes, Wanda explained what she discovered in the warehouse. Klaue, it turned out, had been at the warehouse mere hours before they'd come. He'd arrived ahead of schedule. Tipped off by the lieutenant. Luckily the worker she'd cornered had been on break as Klaue left and happened to overhear a phone conversation. 

"So we're off to Amsterdam, then?"

"Yeah. The guy heard Klaue say he's heading home for a few days. Must have a house there."

Vision nodded as he took a sip of the beer he'd ordered for appearance's sake. He grimaced at the taste. The sight almost made her smile.

For the millionth time that day, they sat in awkward silence. It felt all the more uncomfortable here at the bar, surrounded by groups of friends laughing, the chinking of glasses, and other sounds of merriment. Wanda felt a sudden pang of loneliness. 

Then she realized what she'd just said. She'd accepted Vision's "we" without question. This was supposed to be a short team-up: Brussels only, a day or two max. And she was already regretting that brief concession. She just didn't know how to work free the knot of her feelings towards him. Part of her wanted to lash out at him again, releasing all of the rage she still couldn't quite let go of. Another part knew Vision didn't deserve her bile. He was just the closest victim to heap her frustrations upon. 

And then there was the tiny kernel in her heart that missed Vision desperately and wanted to forgive it all. It used to be so easy between them. Perhaps it was only her stubborn pride preventing them from going back to that. Pietro always said she could never let go of a grudge even when it poisoned her.

As they walked back to the hotel, Wanda distracted herself taking in the city. They passed square after square, each teeming with people who sat at patio tables outside restaurants whose warm light spilled out into the blue night. 

There was something oddly charming and homey about this Belgian city. Wanda thought maybe it was the murals. It seemed as if every building in the city sported one. They depicted anything and everything: popular characters from books and comics, surreal illustrations, brightly colored abstract symbols. All painted in distinct styles by different artists. Wanda almost asked Vision which was his favorite. 

But once more her throat closed before she could utter something so trivial.

As they drew closer to the hotel, Wanda spied one spotlit mural that gave her pause. A comic book cover rendered on epic scale, it depicted the old Avengers team. It captured that brief moment in time when they were a real team, when she had been a proud, valued teammember. They were shown in various battle poses, looking ready to burst forth from the wall. Standing side by side in the center, Steve braced his shield as Tony charged a laser hand cannon. Thor, Sam, Rhodey, and Vision hovered above them, faces fierce and fists flying. Nat took up the position on the left, two pistols pointing head-on. On her opposite side Wanda's own likeness emitted a magical blast, rendered in bold jagged lines. Like a terrifying cherry on top, Hulk towered behind them all. 

They all looked so heroic and triumphant, truly worthy of awe and admiration.

Well, they would have if not for the vandalism. Judging by the various visual styles, a few different artists had apparently taken it upon themselves to improve the mural. Someone drew over their faces, giving them contorted expressions of rage and bloodlust. Another, of a more whimsical bent, had covered Vision’s face with a crudely drawn dick, painted rainbow colors over Tony’s laser blast, and added a fart cloud floating below Nat’s ass. 

One artist had covered all of their hands in dripping paint the same ruby red color as blood. 

The sight of her own depiction left her cold. In addition to the bloodied hands, they'd blackened out her eyes, lending her mural self a demonic look. Above her head was scrawled the word “killer”.

Any good she had done as an Avenger was wiped away by those people she got killed.

"Quite the artistic rendering," Vision said. She hadn't noticed him come to stand so close to her. Close enough she could feel the warmth of his body against the chill of the night.

"Mm," Wanda barely responded. She thought about how things had changed. Hulk and Thor gone to who knows where. Steve, Nat, and Sam lying low in Wakanda. Stark and Rhodey, picking up the pieces. Vision barely holding it all together, a one-man army against all the chaos. Now the world could only hope nothing ever threatened that he couldn't handle.

"They should update it. Do our airfield fight. That would look badass." The words came out sardonically.

"That's not a scene I would prefer to see memorialized," Vision responded softly.

“Do you regret it?” The question escaped Wanda before she could stop it.

> ✧ <

"Regret what exactly?" Vision found himself saying, playing for time. She had caught him off-guard. He thought they weren't supposed to talk about what happened.

Wanda kept her gaze on the mural. "Do you regret siding with Stark and splitting up the team?" She articulated each word clearly, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Vision resisted the urge to point out that one might argue Steve was the one responsible for the split when he refused to sign the Accords. This was not about winning an argument. That was what had gotten them where they were now.

"I do. I'm not sure it could have gone any other way. But I regret that things turned out this way."

The words barely expressed what he truly felt. He was deeply saddened by the fallout of their battle. His parting from Wanda and his other dear teammates. What he'd done to Col. Rhodes. The desolate feeling had been slowly seeping into him over the past year. He hadn't known the meaning of loneliness until the past few months. He felt like a ghost going about the motions of his old life.

He missed the team. Every day felt empty in their absence. Most of all, he missed Wanda. He missed her quiet fortitude, her comfortable presence, her wry humor. The way she gamely tried every single one of his cooking attempts. The way she smiled so rarely that to elicit one filled him with an absurd degree of triumphant satisfaction.

The way she made him feel human.

"And do you regret your part in it? Or do you still think you're right, in the end?" The question cut through his meandering thoughts. He should have known that was what she was coming to. He still didn't quite have an answer.

"Part of me, the core of my programming, really, will always stand by the Accords and the ideals of order and responsibility that they represent," he began. Wanda frowned, but didn't interrupt, so he went on. "Yet the more time I spend on Earth, the more I begin to understand the shades of gray. I see more clearly the political and personal agendas at play. I began to recognize what you and Steve saw from the beginning - that Mr. Stark was driven far more by his inner demons than the ideals embedded in the Accords."

Wanda nodded. Her eyes stayed on him, sensing he had more to say. 

"As I witnessed Colonel Rhodes' agonizing recovery, I saw my own hypocrisy. The last words you said to me haunted me. Did I subconsciously hold myself above the rest of you? If I did, I had to accept that, though I strove to uphold peace, in pursuit of that goal, I used violence. And in doing so-" He broke off. His words came faster as he became suddenly agitated. "I nearly killed the colonel! I damaged him in a way that has forever changed him. Everytime I see him I am reminded of my fallibility."

Vision scraped him fingers through his hair, pained by the admission. He had never said such things out loud. Such truths he could barely stand to face in his own thoughts.

Wanda listened intently without a word. When he was done, she scrutinized him for several moments. She seemed to mull over how to respond to his outburst. She breathed in, words on the tip of her tongue, when a group of inebriated students wove past them. Their careless laughter ruptured the quiet raw moment.

"Let's head back," Wanda said as she began walking again. 

Vision followed her. They made their way all the way back to the hotel, through the ornate lobby, up the smooth elevator, to their penthouse suite. The whole way, he matched her silence. He knew she was working her way up to telling him something. He mustn’t force it.

Finally they were alone. Vision waited for her to speak, acutely aware of the unspoken words that lay between them.

"I'm gonna shower," Wanda announced.

Vision took that as his cue to retire to his own room. He tried to let go of his frustration. He’d felt certain they were on the brink of a breakthrough.

He supposed it was for the best. He knew all along this would be a slow coaxing. Besides, he was still reeling from his own confession. He hadn't realized how guilty he felt until it all came pouring out of him. 

Perhaps that was enough soul-baring for one night. It was rather uncomfortable.

Vision took in the wide bed, the neat desk facing the window, through which he could see waves of rooves. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands stroking the plush cotton comforter absently. He would not be sleeping tonight. 

He heard the shower going. Without meaning to his mind played with variables of this scenario: naked Wanda, this vast bed meant for two. He didn't really know exactly what came next in that equation. But he didn't let himself wonder, abruptly pulling the plug on those thoughts. He scrambled to fetch the latest news on his mental interface to keep himself occupied. 

It was pointless to indulge such fantasies. They were distractions, for one. And they were based on the foolish, improbable notion that she might reciprocate his feelings of attraction. Perhaps before it might have been possible. 

Now, with all that lay between them, the best he could hope for was her forgiveness. 

The door opened. Vision started. Wanda slipped in, fully covered by a fluffy white robe. Her wet hair was tied up in a towel on her head. She looked freshened up, like an orchid spritzed with drops of water.

Not the brazen Wanda of his highly inappropriate imaginings but Vision had to shift his legs nonetheless.

Wanda took a seat in the desk chair. A sweet floral scent followed in her wake, which Vision tried not to sniff too obviously. She spun the chair to face him, tucking her legs underneath her as she did so. Sleek and smooth, her long limbs glistened.

“I need you to hear this. So just listen.” She couldn't meet his eyes. Vision held his breath, trying not to stare at her legs. He needed to hear whatever she came here to say.

Finally she began to speak, the words coming out sure as if she had prepared them.

"To me, your ideals and whatever you think you stand for, they mean nothing. Only your actions. And you abandoned me when I needed you to stay. Sitting in that cell, strapped so tight I couldn't move, I hated you for that. I hated you so much. I hated that you were right all along. I could control my fear, but it didn't matter. They still locked me up. I knew they would let me rot there forever. I was scared I would die there, forgotten, never seeing the sun again."

Something within Vision ached at her words. Her dull tone belied the vulnerability of her admission. Vision knew Wanda did not share her feelings easily. Plenty of times he had seen her all too deftly flip emotional conversations around, using her empathic powers to call out insights about the other person to deflect from herself. Yet here she was, finally speaking the truth she kept locked within her. It sliced through him. He stayed quiet, giving her space to go on.

"And I hated myself for believing you. When you said you'd protect me.” The confession came out shaky, her emotionless facade finally failing her. He watched her blink rapidly a few times. Tears, he realized with a pang. She was blinking back tears. 

He felt a powerful urge to touch her then. He leant back on his hands to keep from flinging towards her.

"Wanda, I am sorry. Truly. That I was an instrument in your imprisonment and pain fills me with regret." 

She caught his eye finally. He went on, trying to explain, desperate for her to understand. 

"It is only in the aftermath that I have finally realized that there is something more important to me than those ideals you spoke of. And that is your forgiveness. Our friendship, restored to a semblance of its former self. It is all I want."

She held his gaze. Vision willed her to accept him. He didn't know what he would do otherwise.

Wanda dropped her head to the hand propped up by the armrest and looked at him sideways. It was such an endearing gesture he was thrown momentarily. At last she spoke, all fight gone from her voice.

"I'm sorry too, Vis. I hated fighting you and the rest of them." Her voice quieted. "And I'm sorry for throwing Rhodes in your face. I wish I never said it."

"I cannot deny that they were difficult to hear. But I needed to hear them."

She nodded, as best she could from her head's resting position. 

"I'm not sure I can go back to the way things were, Vis. You broke my trust. But," she added lightly, beating a hasty retreat from the emotional precipice they stood upon, "you did save me from an actual ninja assassin. So I suppose that counts for something in your favor."

Vision grinned, heart lifting at the sight of her tiny teasing smile. He thought he would never see it again.

> ✧ <

The next morning, as he waited for Wanda, who had forgotten something in their rooms, Vision was feeling rather regretful to be checking out already. He was used to traveling around the world as he carried out his Avenger duties, hopping from country to country within the same week. He rarely got the opportunity to see much of the places he visited. Generally as soon as he arrived somewhere, he was pointed in the direction of the neighborhood threatened by an enhanced villain, hit by a terrorist bomb, or devastated by a natural disaster. Once that was resolved, it was on to the next city to save.

But being here with Wanda made him want to linger. He found himself wanting to stretch their time together as long as he could. It was the reason he had let Wanda sleep in this morning, rather than hitting the station early for maximum travel efficiency. 

That, and she looked like she needed it. The dark circles under her eyes troubled him.

A tap on his shoulder jerked Vision from his thoughts.

"Vis," Wanda said in an undertone, as if she did not want to be overheard. 

"Yes?" He didn't understand her furtiveness. Had she sensed something amiss?

"We can't leave until we try a waffle. Steve says Belgium has the best in the world."

The next thing Vision knew, he'd been dragged down the street and into the cheerful pastel interior of a waffle shop. Wanda ordered for them: two sugar-encrusted waffles, with little paper cups of nutella for dipping. Nutritious breakfast secured, they walked on until they found a small plaza and plopped on the stone steps of its focal fountain to devour their treats.

“We have a few options. There is a local train that leaves every half-hour, but it will be slow-going. There is also a high-speed direct train leaving at the top of the hour that we might make if we hurry,” Vision began, hoping to come to a decision as they ate.

When Wanda didn’t answer, he looked over to catch her having a moment with her waffle. The unguarded expression of bliss on her face made him grin. He decided to eat first, ask questions later. 

Vision had not eaten in several weeks. He used to enjoy it more, back in the days when Wanda and Nat amused themselves daring him to try new foods, ranging from favorite dishes to flavor monstrosities cobbled together from various leftovers in the fridge. These days he generally only consumed food when necessary to blend in as a normal human. 

So the sharp sweetness of the waffle's sugar crystals, amplified by the nutty sweetness of the chocolate hazelnut spread, proved too much for his out-of-practice tastebuds. He only managed one bite.

“That was so good. I want another one...” she trailed off with a yearning glance back at the shop. A smudge of nutella just above her lip drew his gaze. 

He wanted to taste her. Would her lips overwhelm him with sweetness the way the pastry did? 

He buried the thought as soon as it arose in his mind. He needed to get a handle on these errant ideas.

“You’ve got a spot on your, um, upper lip,” he told her, since it would just distract him.

Wanda raised her eyebrows, then whipped her phone out. Using her camera to inspect herself, she darted her tongue twice over the mark. It disappeared on the second try.

He watched her the entire time, riveted. 

"Direct train seems like our best option, right?" she asked, looking at him expectantly.

“The direct train?” He fumbled before his brain returned to the task at hand. “Ah, that is, yes, the direct train seems ideal. I believe we can make it on time if we obtain a taxi or ride share."

"Let's do that then," she responded. Her eyes dropped and he glanced down at his chest, wondering what she saw there.

Ah. She was eyeing his waffle, held forgotten in his hand.

“This is rather rich for my taste. Would you like to finish mine?” he asked as he offered his barely eaten waffle. 

Wanda eagerly snatched up his offering. She dunked it in nutella, took a large bite, and just looked out at the square for several moments as she chewed. 

Her eyes slid back to meet his. She let out a sighing sort of chuckle.

“Oh, Vis. You make it so hard to stay mad at you.”

His heart warmed at the faint note of fondness he detected in her tone. He didn't respond, and she made short work of her second waffle. With a satisfied exhale, she stood and turned back to him.

"Let's go, then."

> ✧ <

"Don't look now, but I think the guy sitting three rows back really likes you," Wanda muttered to Vision, sitting in the passenger seat across from her.

Vision, predictably, leaned his head slightly into the aisle to see the man in question. She could tell he had been caught peeking when his face lit up with a nervous grin.

"How do you know?" he asked Wanda out of the corner of his mouth.

"He's been imagining you going down on him for the past, like, twenty minutes."

Vision blushed so hard he almost matched his true crimson shade. He broke eye contact with the unseen passenger and tried to sink further down in his seat.

Wanda grinned. She had really missed teasing him. He was so easy to fluster when it came to these things.

Turning back to her phone to distract herself from the horny fantasies her powers kept picking up on, they lapsed into silence once more. 

Thankfully it did not feel so oppressive now. The silence between them was easier, more natural. Their late night conversation had unlocked something between them.

It had seemed so hard to admit how angry she was. For doing so would reveal the depth of her hurt. But once she finally laid bare all the begrudging feelings hooked into her, she felt an unexpected relief. And he did not try to reason with her, or explain away her rage, as she had expected he would. 

He just listened. And then apologized. 

She had not known she was waiting for that until those words fell from his lips. _I am sorry._

With a single sharp tug the words unloosened a knot in her heart. 

They couldn't undo the past. But it was enough. 

Now she simply wanted to enjoy this stolen time together. However long it lasted.

Wanda's eyes grew heavy. She wished she could nap, but the thoughts of the passengers around her were too distracting to allow her to fall completely asleep. 

She wasn't sleeping much at all these days. Her nightmares were back, waking her up at least once a night. With the near-constant maintenance of her invisibility and passive mind-reading, her subconscious mind inflicted her with strange dreams as it tried to make sense of everything it took in.

It didn't help that seeing Vision again stirred up memories of her time on the Raft. However brief her time there, her cell on the Raft had become a recurring feature of her worst nightmares. 

Through half-lidded eyes, Wanda looked across at Vision. He sat leaning forward, eyes closed, chin resting on his clasped hands. His eyelids twitched slightly as if he were dreaming. Not sleeping - she was pretty sure she had never seen him sleep - but, from what she could read, checking on some Avenger business on his mental interface. The android's version of sitting glued to his phone. 

Wanda took advantage of his deep focus to examine him. Something she was doing a lot of lately, in stolen furtive glances. She couldn't help it. His new form mesmerized her. She kept finding herself cataloguing all of the alien aspects of his true form and how they were toned down to the look of a normal human man. The metallic red and green coloring of his skin, now a pale peach. The texture of his skin, etched like an electronics board, now smooth. 

In his face she beheld the perfectly balanced contradiction of naivety and vast wisdom that was so quintessentially Vision. Eyes and lips with boyish softness set into the sharp face of a man who has seen too much of the world.

His hair was the strangest addition of all - she couldn't begin to understand how that worked. There were even fine hairs sprouting from his knuckles and forearms. She wondered idly if they felt the same as that of a normal man. If she touched him, would she feel warmth?

She would never admit it, but he looked _good_. She couldn't blame that passenger for entertaining such erotic thoughts. Well, she could for fantasizing so vividly within her vicinity. Giving her ideas she really shouldn't entertain about her friend.

Suddenly Vision opened his eyes, catching her fascinated stare. He broke into a smile, the faintest blush returning to his cheeks.

“It must be odd to see me like this.”

No use trying to pretend like she hadn’t just been inspecting him like a cut of meat.

"Why did you want this form anyway? Did Stark ask you?" she deflected.

"No one even knew such a thing was within my power, let alone thought to request it of me. I came up with the idea on my own. For rather prosaic reasons. I simply wanted to walk down the street like an ordinary person. Free of gawking or selfie requests."

His answer struck her as only part of the truth. But she didn't search his mind for clues.

"That makes sense." 

She dropped her gaze at last, realizing she'd been staring unabashedly a little too long. 

"That stone really is powerful," she said, trying to prod the conversation away from his hot new form.

"Indeed. It led me to you, in fact. I would never have found you otherwise."

Wanda's eyes snapped back up. "What?"

“The mindstone, you see,” he replied, absently stroking the spot where it lay hidden in his forehead. “As far as I can tell, it actually has some low-level sentience. And it has some connection to you, and me, probably every being to whom it has granted some of its power.“

That was disturbing yet mildly endearing. A shiny rock worried about her? Wanda's brow crinkled. 

“So, what, it dropped a pin in your brain showing where I was?”

He chuckled. “A little like that. It’s hard to describe. You managed to slip from my sight and I ended up searching in the complete wrong direction. Then I felt this strong - well, one might call it intuition - that danger was near. Your face flashed in my mind’s eye. You were grimacing in pain. And I _felt_ where you were. I might never have known where to find you if not for the stone.” 

He smiled, those shining blue eyes meeting hers. Her stomach fluttered. 

“I was quite glad for its assistance.” 

Wanda dipped her gaze. Only then did she finally notice what he wore underneath his blazer. 

Two soulful binocular eyes stared back her, startling a laugh of recognition from her.

"I can't believe you still have that Wall-e shirt we got at the thrift store!"

> ✧ <

Vision and Wanda stood, two stones in the stream of bicyclists swerving around them, staring across the water at Klaue's elegant canalside house. Its royal blue facade made for a brash contrast against its muted neighbors. On the right side, a tall weeping willow spilled its branches over the water. A wood-paneled boat floated out front, straight out of a classic movie. 

In the span of a minute, dozens of people walked right past the front door. A boat tour passed by in the canal below, the guide pointing at the blue house and announcing something in German. 

Little did any of them know that one of the world's most dangerous criminals called that beautiful house his home.

"Is he there now?" Vision asked, leaning down towards Wanda so his low voice wouldn't be lost in the noise of the street. As he did so he caught a whiff of her sharp spiced scent.

"No. No one is inside," Wanda murmured.

"He must be out on business. We should perhaps come back later," Vision suggested helpfully.

Wanda threw him a sardonic look that he interpreted optimistically as, _Why, yes, that sounds like a brilliant plan_.

They began making their way back to their hotel, located not far away. 

Wanda yawned. "I might just head back to the room and nap."

A tiny blip of disappointment went through Vision. He didn't know how much longer they had together. They might find Klaue tonight, fulfill Wanda's mission, and be on their separate ways by tomorrow. He wanted to maximize their time spent together.

Yet Vision could not deny that Wanda needed the rest. He had learned to pick up on the indicators even before they became friends, back when her fresh grief gave her insomnia. He noticed the telltale dark circles under Wanda's eyes, along with her oft-thwarted attempts to snatch a few moments of rest on the train. 

In truth, the clues only validated what he already knew. She was not sleeping through the night. Just the night before, he caught the faintest sound of a startled gasp through her door as she woke from yet another nightmare. 

For a solid half-hour he debated going into her room to offer what solace he could. A listening ear, or a quiet presence. But he could not bring himself to enter. He knew how much Wanda disliked revealing what she saw as her weakness. She would only push him away. 

So he kept his distance. Even as regret gnawed at him.

"I should have liked to go to the Van Gogh Museum. I have long hoped to see more of his work," he responded. "But I should stay by your side, to be safe."

"No, you should go. I'll be fine."

"I will not leave you to be ambushed again. Let us return to the hotel to rest."

Wanda chewed her lip. "I guess I really should try to see at least one sight while I'm here. I didn't even get to visit the Eiffel Tower in Paris."

"You truly wish to go? You need not humor me," he said, though in truth he really would like to be humored just this once.

In answer, Wanda took out her phone, pulling up a map app. 

"C'mon, let's go get cultured."

The museum, they found, was guarded by a maze of sunflowers. The bright yellow petals gleamed like the sun under the cloudy low-country sky. The building itself was a round oblong shape, bisected down the middle, one side a slab of opaque gray, the other encased in glass and metal structs. The place teemed with tourists.

Once inside, time lost all meaning to Vision. He made his way slowly through the museum, reading every single plaque, gazing at each painting for a long moment. The thoughts and worries that had been plaguing him all day - Avenger business he really should not be putting off, Wanda's safety, their waning time together - fell away. In their place, a fathomless wonder at the precision of a brushstroke, a perfectly mixed color, a composition that somehow managed to evoke a soft breeze rolling through fields.

He almost forgot Wanda was there until she volunteered a comment, for his ears only.

"I don't know anything about art. But this is beautiful."

"It is," he agreed.

"Why did you want to come here in particular?"

Vision considered his answer. " _The Mulberry Tree_ was the first thing I saw that made me feel something that could not be quantified." 

He walked on to the next painting, a self-portrait rendered in pale blues. The words flowed out of him, his thinking processed aloud. "There is something about his work that appeals to me on a deep level. I do not have the words to articulate it. Except perhaps to say, as I look at his paintings, I find myself thinking, maybe I really do have a soul."

Wanda was quiet. Perhaps surprised by his answer. Vision worried he might have revealed a bizarre insecurity. Outside philosophical circles, people did not generally worry too much over whether or not they had souls.

"I think I see why. He saw beauty in everything. Just like you," she mused, leaning into him gently. That spiced scent of hers, like a warm cup of brewed tea, filled his nose again, making him want to bury his face in it.

Vision didn't know how to respond. It was the nicest thing she had ever said to him. That anyone had ever said to him. When most people complimented him, they went on about what an immensely powerful being he was, what amazing intellectual feats he was capable of, how many lives he saved. All things he was proud of. 

Yet Wanda's concise words settled deep in his core, making him feel known. Not as some strange savior, the only of his kind. But as a man.

"Thank you," was all he could think to say. For seeing him as no one else did. For forgiving him.

Wanda looked up at him, lips curved in an expression slightly confused by his grave reaction. She gave a little shrug, unaware of the effect her casual observation had on him.

She stepped away and continued inspecting the other paintings. As his eyes followed her, Vision decided that, if he had the skill, he would paint her like this, in profile, immortalizing the perfect curve of her cheek, contrasting the fiery red of her hair with the same wintry shades of blue in Van Gogh's portrait. 

> ✧ <

It was near dark and Wanda was starving by the time they exited the museum. She demanded they eat before proceeding with their mission.

Over the past few days she sent N'Dele, her supervising War Dog, only the vaguest of updates. She knew she was slacking on her important mission. But she was having fun for the first time in a long while. She couldn't resist putting off responsibility.

On their way to dinner, Wanda and Vision walked to the nearby Vondelpark. Bicyclists zipped by in every direction. She noticed one cyclist pass them by with a bouquet of flowers poking out of his backpack. Mothers chatted as they pushed their strollers. Dog walkers were led along by dogs of every shape and form. Some university students sat under a tree by a pond, giggling madly, clearly stoned.

She looked away quickly from the last group, throat suddenly tight. Just like that, she wished Pietro was here. No one had made her laugh so freely since he had died. She missed getting high together, watching stupid TV, talking about life. She missed having someone she could be stupid with.

Wanda had thought about going to a coffee shop and picking up some edibles while she was here. It was Amsterdam, after all. She ultimately decided against it, since Vision would have to come along. He seemed the type to be too stuck-up for drugs, but he had been known to surprise her. And she did not want to be responsible for whatever a super-powered android might do while high.

They found a small hole-in-the-wall Indonesian restaurant that Wanda decided on based on smell alone. After they were seated, Wanda excused herself to use the restroom. She took the moment to check her neglected phone. 

Nat had texted an hour ago.

_What the hell are you doing with Vision?_

She tapped out a quick response, _yikes, stalker._ She shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, it was unsettling to know her activities were watched.

_Wanda, it’s us. We’re monitoring you for your protection._

Wanda hated that euphemism, "for your protection." It was always bullshit.

_its fine. he hasnt arrested me. just teaming up for a few days_

_Teaming up? On your mission? How did he get involved?_

So Nat didn't have the whole story. Wanda debated not revealing the assassin attack to her mentor. But the brilliant spy would find out soon enough.

_he helped me after i was attacked by an assassin. some bitch named elektra_

Nat responded with three screaming emojis. Immediately followed by questions, _How are you alive? How did she know to find you? Is she still alive?_

Wanda gave a succinct summary of the interaction and what little she and Vision knew about the hit. Which was, not alot.

_I can't believe you survived. That woman makes me look like a girl scout. You should have told me as soon as you escaped. I can arrange a transport now, if you can sit tight for a day._

_NO_

_You're not safe out there while that woman is hunting you._

_im so close to klaue. i need to complete the mission._

_Someone else can take care of it. It's not worth your life._

_thats what vis is for. he can watch my back until i'm done_

_And how do you know he can be trusted?_

Wanda didn't know how to respond to that. Soon a new text bubble appeared as Nat followed the question with another message.

_I know I don't need to remind you of this, but Vis did choose his side for a reason. He's loyal to Tony. And Tony's still furious. If he asked Vision to give you up, or if you let slip anything about where we're hiding... I think Vision would feel like he had no choice but to turn you in._

Wanda frowned, recognizing her own whispering suspicions in Nat's words. She wanted to believe that Vision had changed. But she hadn't survived this long on naivete.

Still, it rankled her that Nat thought she didn't already know that.

_i know. im handling him_

_I know you two were close. I just think it's too soon to get involved again. Just give it a year or two. Maybe Tony will have calmed down by then._

_im not leaving until this is done._

Nat took a while to respond to that. At length Wanda received a short ultimatum: _You have three more days. Then I'm coming to get you, whether or not you've nailed Klaue._

She'd take it.

Her phone buzzed once more as she headed back. _Also Clint misses you but is bad at communicating it._

Wanda dutifully texted Clint a photo she snapped of the sunflower field outside the museum. No immediate response. With the time difference, she guessed he was getting his kids ready for school.

After a deliciously spicy and filling dinner, they arrived back at Klaue's narrow house, perched on the corner of a canal. The blue facade looked indigo against the gold light shining from within. 

There were much fewer people around, as they'd hoped. It was the perfect time to break in.

They crept closer and, when the coast was clear, ducked underneath the willow’s branches. As they crouched, Wanda opened her psychic senses. 

Klaue wasn't there. She hissed in annoyance.

"He's still out."

Vision grimaced. "Shall we wait?"

"Maybe. We should at least take a look around inside, see if we find anything."

"Excellent idea. Wait here and I'll phase in."

"No way, you have to let me in too!"

"Do you not trust me to complete the objective? I was trained in information gathering just as well as you. Also I can hack," Vision said, a little pointedly.

"It's not that. I just want to see inside his house too. I haven't done a B&E in forever." She learned a lot of less than legitimate skills during her days as an amateur anarchist.

"Oh." He opted not to press further about her sordid criminal past. 

Vision phased into the empty house and let her in through the back door.

The rooms on the bottom floor all looked stuffy and historic, their walls packed to the gills with paintings. They looked like they hadn’t changed since the Dutch Golden Age. The style was totally at odds with what Wanda knew of Klaue. She would have expected him to blow all his money on some crass mansion. The place was rather beautiful in its faithful preservation.

They stepped up the creaking steps to the second floor. Wanda's jaw dropped.

The madman had gutted most of the floor to make way for a recording studio.

"Oh no. He fancies himself a musician," she murmured in horror.

Wanda made her way to the computer in the studio. She pressed play on the latest recording.

The most appalling electronic dubstep monstrosity issued from the speaker, made all the more terrible by the overlaid sound of Klaue rapping.

She cut it off abruptly.

"That was objectively bad," Vision said into the ensuing silence.

Ears still ringing, Wanda began climbing up the narrow winding stair that led to top floor.

She was halfway up the stairs when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She stopped to check it.

Clint had replied. _buy me some gud kush while ur there will u_ , ending his plea with the praying hands emoji. Wanda snorted.

Her halt proved too sudden, as a second later Vision marched right into her back. Knocked off balance, she wobbled backwards for a second. Then warm broad hands grasped her at the waist, steadying her.

Wanda felt the perfunctory yet intimate touch through her whole body. Just as quickly, Vision snatched his hands away, as if expecting a bite. She felt the loss of their warmth more acutely than she cared to admit.

"Thanks," Wanda said, the word coming out hushed.

"Of course," Vision replied, equally quiet.

They found an office at the top of the house. It was locked, but Vision had only to phase through the door and unlock it like before. He strode to the desk and began tapping away rapidly at the laptop sitting on it.

Wanda frowned at the wall of animal heads, all undoubtedly killed by Klaue himself. Their shapes loomed in the darkness. There were antelopes, an elephant, and a doe-eyed animal reminiscent of a giraffe. Knowing Klaue, they were probably all endangered species. 

"I found something," Vision whispered. Wanda joined him behind the desk, leaning over his shoulder to look at the email displayed on the screen.

"Who's Killmonger?" she asked, reading the greeting.

"I am not sure. But look, they're doing a job together. The British Museum. Klaue says he has made arrangements to infiltrate the upcoming gala." 

"Guess we have one more stop to make, then."

Just then, Wanda went rigid. She sensed the minds of two people, approaching quickly.

"Someone's coming," she hissed.

Vision acted promptly, whisking towards the door and locking it. They pressed themselves close to the wall, on the side that would be blocked from view when the door swung in. There was nowhere else to hide.

"Is it Klaue?" Vision whispered. He stood close enough that she could feel his body heat. The memory of his hands at her waist flashed again.

"No, it's not. It's weird, it's almost like they're-" she went silent, listening to their thoughts. "Visiting?"

They heard the front door open, followed by the thuds of several footsteps and the rumble of rolling suitcases. Wanda's eyes narrowed.

"Oh my God, this place is ah-mazing!" came a distant exclamation. A flurry of conversation ensued, as enthusiastic in tone as the first voice.

Wanda stared up at Vision, her revelation leaving her momentarily dumbfounded. He looked at her, eyebrows raised in question.

"He fucking rents out his evil lair on Airbnb."

> ✧ <

_i'm a sucker for all the subliminal things_   
_no one knows about you_   
_and you're making the typical me_   
_break my typical rules_

> ✧ <

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting some real emotional work done here, so proud of these dopes
> 
> moral of this story: get u a man who gives u his nutella street waffle


	6. A Revealing Evening

> ✧ <

_the world can wait_   
_'cause i'm never late to the party_   
_if i'm late to the party with you_

> ✧ <

After a harrowing escape through the office's window, the next day Wanda and Vision took the first direct train to London.

At Wanda's behest, they decided to stay in a townhouse further from the center of the city. The population density, and its maelstrom of minds to read, was getting to her. She needed a space away from so many clamoring thoughts.

The house was a classic brick-faced terrace home. It lay nestled side by side with the other houses on the block, but it was a marked improvement from the crowded hotel districts. As she walked inside and took in the tasteful decor and general air of refined coziness, Wanda felt like she had stumbled onto the set of a British romantic comedy.

After dropping off their things in their across-facing rooms, Vision joined Wanda on the private balcony attached to her room. It was hemmed in by greenery to block the view of nosy neighbors.

"So we know Klaue is going to be at this gala for the British Museum, in two days, in some capacity. How are we getting in?" Wanda began.

"As it happens, the Stark Foundation receives tickets every year. And, as it happens, Ms. Potts arranged for me to go this year."

"Why?"

"She knows I enjoy museums."

"Nerd," Wanda scoffed with a smirk.

Vision only smiled. "Indeed."

"Can you get two tickets?"

"My invitation comes with a guest, yes."

"Then we're set, right? We get in as guests, then find Klaue and take him down."

"The gala is a black-tie affair. We will need appropriately clothing."

Oh, shit. Wanda had never even worn a prom dress, let alone an evening gown fit for a night with Europe's oldest money.

"I better get going, then."

"Where?"

"I've got to go find a sickeningly expensive dress to wear."

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Vision, your only clothing expertise lies in dad sweaters."

Vision went a little red. "A fair assessment."

"Anyway, you need to go get a suit."

Black credit cards in hand, they both set off to execute on said plan and put as large a dent in Stark's wallet as they could. At least, that was Wanda's plan. 

Wanda proceeded to have one of the best days she'd had in a very long time. She got a second breakfast at a nearby cafe, then got distracted perusing an old bookstore. Just next door was an old vinyl store, so she lost another hour sifting through records. 

After telling herself there was no way she was fitting that Beatles album in her duffle bag, Wanda finally dragged herself away from the record bins and headed to Mayfair on her quest for a dress.

The first few stores yielded nothing. All the gowns were elegantly dull and outrageously expensive. One gown, adequate for her purpose, cost more than a year's rent in Sokovia. The number made Wanda, child of two working-class parents from a poorer part of Europe, faintly ill. She could not bring herself to buy it even for the noble cause of petty economic revenge against Stark. 

Wanda knew she should just pick something that fit the bill. But some girlish part of her resisted being so practical. This might be the only time she ever got to dress up for an event like this. Just this once, she wanted to wear something that made her feel dazzling.

With such a specific yet vague goal in mind, shopping took the entire day. Taking a break in between clothing boutiques, Wanda sat on a park benches and listened for juicy thoughts as she sipped tea from a to-go cup. With so many people thinking horny thoughts, she made it a pastime to find the most unexpected kinksters. 

Like the young mother pushing a stroller, daydreaming about a blue-skinned hunk feasting on her pussy in a snowbank.

To each their own, Wanda mused, eyebrows raised.

Wanda felt free. She felt she could live like this forever, just passing her days like a vagabond. Never to feel the weight of the world on her shoulders again. 

Though the freedom left her a little lonely. She moved through the crowds of shoppers silently. Her incognito illusion seemed to be holding up well. Not a single person glanced at her twice. As she observed those around her, little things sent jolts of yearning through her. The sight of two siblings squabbling. A girl explaining something eagerly to her mother. A trio of university students laughing uproariously. A couple sharing a dessert outside a cafe, sweet contentedness suffusing their aura. 

As she made her way to the next row of promising boutiques, Wanda found herself missing Vision. Now that her anger had faded, she was enjoying his company so much, more than she probably should. Their time together would be coming to an end soon. She should be steeling herself for their inevitable farewell. But it was hard not to simply luxuriate in his sweet attentiveness. 

Even after all this time apart, Vision still had an uncanny ability to dispel her gloominess with an inane observation about the world. Earlier today she was silently stressing over the fact that they hadn't even seen Klaue yet, when out of the blue Vision pointed out the side of a house, whose bottom half-circle window below two shutters leant it the air of a cartoonish smiling face.

Even working was more fun with him. They were still debating if Klaue's mixtape was the worst travesty ever recorded in existence.

"I grant, it was no Vivaldi..."

"Vis, it was the most offensive thing I have _ever_ heard." 

There was one unexpected consequence of that night. Wanda could not stop thinking about how Vision's hands felt on her, in the split second when he caught her on the stairs. 

Even now Wanda's sides shivered at the shade of his touch. 

She was confused why she craved the sensation. He had touched her in that perfunctory manner often enough when they were on the team together. A quick handhold to help her up after sparring, a light tap on the shoulder when she was lost in thought. She never thought anything of it those times.

Now some utterly idiotic part of herself wanted to trip in front of him just so he would catch her again.

Wanda sighed. She clearly just needed to get laid. Ideally by anyone other than the man who was both her most "it's complicated" friend and the world’s literal first sentient android. She needed something simple, a nice anonymous one-night stand. 

Though the mere thought of trying to pick up a stranger at a bar made her tired.

She just needed to ignore these flutterings for the next few days. Once she was gone she would snap out of it.

It took the entire day, criss-crossing across London, popping into dozens of stores, but Wanda finally found the perfect dress. Leaving it at the shop for a rush alteration, she called a ride. She slumped in the backseat, feeling exhausted but giddily pleased with her find. 

Wanda was dozing against the window when her half-lidded eyes opened fully as they lit upon a store sign that read KALINKA. The familiar shape of the words made her heart squeeze. An impulse took hold of her, filling her with excitement. She bade the driver to stop and she sprang out in the direction of the shop.

> ✧ <

Vision returned to the house, drained, a garment bag slung over his shoulder like a pelt. A headache pierced his head. 

Shopping for a tuxedo had taxed him in new and unexpected ways. Every preference the shop assistant had asked of him had required frantic internet research to determine the optimal selection for his frame, all the while pretending he was merely deliberating for an excessive amount of time over each choice.

Now he knew more about every variety of lapel, pocket, and vent one could possibly combine in a man's suit. Yet somehow still could claim no fashion sense.

Vision walked up the entry stairwell to find Wanda in the kitchen, smacking cabinet doors open and shut with flicks of her finger. When she finally found what she was looking for, a large pot came floating out on a small cloud of red swirls.

“Are you cooking?” he asked, perplexed.

“Found a Russian grocery store a neighborhood over,” she replied, nodding towards the brown paper bag on the counter. A dark brown loaf of bread poked out the top. Wanda plunked the pot on the stove and turned to Vision brandishing a wooden spoon and an unusually cheerful smile. 

He was completely charmed.

“Tonight we’re finally making real paprikash,” she declared. 

They began making preparations, starting with chopping all of the tomatoes and onions. Though Wanda tried to delegate simple tasks to him, his approach proved too slow and methodical for her, and she ended up sidling him out of the way of the cutting board. 

He did an excellent job, if he did say so himself, measuring out ingredients with the kitchen scale. 

“How much salt shall I add?” he asked over the sautéing onions. 

“I donno, a pinch?”

Vision was appalled by this lack of precision but decided to follow the guidance to the letter. He proceeded to add a tiny pile of salt in his palm, take a deliberate pinch, and dash it over the pan. Wanda smirked wryly at his careful approach and grabbed the rest of the salt pile to throw in. 

Vision felt the brush of her fingertips on his palm throughout his body.

After fussing over the flavor for ten more minutes, Wanda at last decreed they had successfully made paprikash. Vision grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses while Wanda levitated their bowls and a plate of toasted bread, which trailed behind them merrily as they climbed up the stairs to their secluded terrace. 

Wanda ate ravenously. Vision took delicate spoonfuls in between descriptions of his frightful experience at the tailor.

"He asked so many questions as if he expected me to know every esoteric secret of suit-making. How was I supposed to know what a pick stitch is, let alone form a strong opinion about it?," he said with exasperation.

“Sounds nerve-wracking,” Wanda said in a serious tone. 

When he glanced up at her, her straight face took only a few seconds to crack into a grin. He answered in kind. 

How he had missed her teasing.

The sun began to set, coloring the sky a brilliant pink, the same shade as the blooms overflowing their neighbor's windowboxes. The air took on a bit of a chill but Vision barely noticed. The fading light brought a warm hue to Wanda's face as she contemplated the sunset.

Vision felt at home in a way he had not felt in many months. Somehow over the course of their conversation all the worries of the day slipped away, replaced by a feeling of contentment.

Vision idly wondered if this is what it would be like to live with Wanda. Sharing a nest, making meals together, settling into a routine all their own. Like lovers. 

He could imagine repeating this night after night, never growing tired of it. 

The wine must have affected him more than Vision realized, for his reflection came tumbling out of his mouth. 

“I’ve never experienced this before. Eating dinner together in a home. It's like something I've only seen on sitcoms. I find I quite enjoy it." 

"Yeah, I haven't made dinner like this in... a while."

"Did you have dinner like this with your family?” He didn't know why he asked. He was just so curious about her. All the things she held locked up so tight.

Wanda looked caught off guard by the question. She took a gulp of wine. Then, to Vision's surprise, she answered, the words flowing easily. 

“Not quite so tranquil at our dinner table. We were terrors, Pietro and I. He could not keep still and I was constantly ordering him around. Our parents had no choice but to distract us. At dinner they drilled us on our school days, what we’d learned, new friends we made. It was always lively.”

Vision nodded, hoping to coax more out of this thread.

"What are your happiest memories from when you were a child?"

"We used to go to the beach."

Vision had not known this. The discovery filled him with pleasure. “Did you go to the beach often?”

Her eyes lit with fondness. “Oh yes, every chance we could. Mamicka, my mother, loved the sea. We’d pile into our old car, Mami, Papa, Pietro and me, the two of us quarreling the whole way until we arrived at the sea in Croatia.” 

She sighed wistfully, her gaze on the purple sky above. "It was so beautiful there."

"I can only imagine."

Wanda looked back at him then, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I could try to show you."

"How?" 

She stood and dragged her chair to sit diagonally to his right. Close enough that Vision could smell her enticing scent.

"Close your eyes," she commanded softly. Vision obeyed. He felt her hand press against his cheek. His heart beat rapidly.

Images appeared within his mental interface. Images of blue sky, bluer waters. Then brief moments, like a film reel: a small dark-haired girl and light-haired boy sitting on an ancient sea wall, eating gelato. In the sea, the pair of them shrieking gleefully as they were flung bodily into the waves by their laughing father. On the beach, the girl snuggled up in a towel, pressed into her mother's side. The woman held a book in one hand and stroked little Wanda's hair with the other.

The memories took Vision's breath away. In them Wanda looked innocent and happy, without a trace of the shadow she carried now.

A surge of empathetic sorrow hit him like a splash of cold water. What a beautiful life to have torn away so young. 

He wrenched his eyes open to find her looking off in the distance with eyes that shimmered. He wondered if it did more harm than good for her to unearth the memories. He hoped it was the latter.

“Thank you for showing me,” he said softly. He couldn't stop himself from resting his hand on hers, giving an affectionate little stroke with his fingers. The touch drew her attention back to him. She breathed through the ache of remembering. She didn't remove her hand.

“It was a good life. While it lasted,” was all she could say.

> ✧ <

Wanda couldn't sleep that night. Vision had stirred up so many memories of the past that had long settled down in the depths of her mind. Now that they had resurfaced they haunted her.

She inwardly cursed him for prying, then herself for spoiling the mood of the evening with her dire words. 

But she couldn’t pretend. All good things came to an end. This little escape of theirs was nothing but borrowed time. Sooner or later, Nat would order her home or she would be recognized or that assassin would return to finish the job. However it happened, their time would be over.

After an hour of restless turning, Wanda threw off the covers. She crept as quietly as she could to the smaller terrace attached to her room. She hoped Vision was in low power mode or whatever he did instead of sleeping in the other bedroom across the hall. She was not sure how easily he could be alerted.

She leaned with her back against the railing. A residential neighborhood inhabited by mostly wealthy tech workers and their families, things were quiet this time of night. 

The view wasn't amazing from here. With the space shielded by tall plants on the outer three sides, all she could really see was a patch of light-polluted sky directly above. 

She wanted to fly. She wanted to soar above the city and see it in its entirety. She wanted to lose herself in the sky, free from the realities of her complicated life.

But someone would probably see her. It was too risky.

Her senses picked up Vision hesitating at the door to her room.

"Come on over."

He joined her at the railing, resting his forearms against it.

"I thought perhaps you wanted to be alone."

She looked askance at him, waiting for the ulterior motive.

"But I hoped you might also like to go flying with me," he finished.

Wanda experienced the disconcerting feeling of having her own mind read. 

"We could be seen," she argued.

"It is dark. No one will be looking."

If the ever practical Vision wasn't worried, that was good enough for her.

Together they lifted into the sky.

They rose high enough to see downtown area sprawled before them. It was a rare clear night. They floated close without touching. 

Wanda took in the sprawling city below. There was much more to see up here than there was over Avengers HQ. The blue lights of the London Eye stood out amongst the warm glow of its surroundings. The Thames shimmered under the gleaming bridges spanning it. Buildings and homes stretched twinkling in every direction. 

Then Wanda looked up at the night sky above her. With nothing blocking her view of the vast infinity of space, she felt a moment of vertigo. 

Within the vast dark above, danger lurked. But she wasn't afraid. She could only marvel at the splendor of the star-filled sky.

Wanda wished she could stay until dawn and watch the sky turn rosy as the sun's golden light returned.

Just then her teeth started to chatter. Her arms wrapped around herself, tugging her hoodie closer.

She forgot how freezing cold it got up here.

Without warning Wanda felt warmth surround her as Vision scooped her into his arms, her legs swept over his arm. Instinctively she snuggled closer, her shivering limbs seeking heat. She turned her head into his broad chest, the clean smell of him filling her nose. A sense of deja-vu came over her. Slowly but steadily they descended back towards their little terrace.

When Vision alighted, he didn’t immediately let her down. Instead he looked down at her intently.

“I never get to rescue you anymore,” he said softly, almost sounding sad. Like it was an activity he missed fervently.

Wanda's heart skipped. She felt something flutter deep within her. 

Their proximity suddenly felt too close, his face inches away from hers. Was he going to kiss her? The very possibility threw her. She dropped her gaze, unable to handle the feeling in his. 

She slid down from his grasp in an ungainly fashion.

"Um, night," she said, lamely. 

Then she fled.

> ✧ <

Wanda sat in a lecture hall. It looked vaguely familiar, like she'd seen it on TV somewhere. She wore a school uniform that must have come from a Halloween store for all the skin coverage it provided. 

Vision stood at the podium, in his true form, an incomprehensible presentation slide spanning the wall behind him. He was giving a lecture, occasionally gesturing towards the screen, but his voice sounded distorted, as if run through a broken computer translator. The sea of indistinct faces surrounding her seemed rapt on his every word. 

She had no idea what was going on. She needed to go see him after class. She could not afford to fail or they would send her back to the Raft.

Suddenly the hall was empty. A door appeared directly behind the stage. 

Wanda passed through it and found Vision, leaning against a mahogany desk, arms crossed. Looking like he had been waiting for her. 

“I can't fail this class. For my grade, perhaps we could come to an arrangement?”

The words tumbled from her lips. She hadn't meant to say that. Shock coursed through her at the innuendo in her own tone.

“What sort of arrangement?”

Something tightened within her at the low, polished timbre of his voice. Her eyes drew to his beet red forearms, revealed by the rolled sleeves of his crisp white shirt. Despite the relaxed posture, tendons flexed in his hands.

“Whatever you like,” she replied as she took a step closer. One step, then another, and she was within arm’s reach. He straightened from his desk, drawing up to his full height. She tilted her chin up.

"And if I want it all?" he asked, reaching a hand out to stroke her collarbone. She shuddered at the unbearable lightness of the touch. Their words made no sense, like they were rehearsing lines from a soap opera. Yet she felt undeniably real anticipation.

She stepped even closer. "Take it," she breathed.

At her answer, the tension broke and he was crushing her to his chest, mouth slanted on hers. She softened instantly, held fast in his embrace. They kissed hungrily. It felt so good her mind fled.

Within moments Vision's palms came to grip her ass under her short skirt. He ground her against his hard shaft, making her dizzy with lust. Wanda went feral, ripping the front of his shirt, buttons flying. Before she could run her hands down his deliciously chiseled torso, he spun her and bent her over the desk. 

She barely repressed an undignified squeak of glee. 

The unbuckling and slick of his belt sounded loud behind her. Then he leaned over her, holding her hair, and whispered into her ear, “Wanda?”

Words failed her. She could only pant, dying to feel him inside her.

“Wanda, are you awake?” Louder this time, less husky. “I thought we might go get breakfast.”

Wanda’s eyes shot open. 

Vision, standing at the foot of her bed, gave a little cheerful wave. She willed the blood from her face but she could already feel how flushed she was.

“Vis, I don’t like people waking me up,” she grumbled, falling back on knee-jerk defensiveness. Knees clamped together, she threw an arm over her eyes as if to block out the morning light. 

But really she just absolutely could not look at his face right now.

“Ah, my apologies. That’s a no to breakfast, I take it?”

“Just bring me back something. Please.”

One extremely cold shower later, Wanda and Vision sat at the kitchen bar, to-go cups of tea and an assortment of scones from the cafe down the street set before them. Wanda dug into a cheddar and herb.

Vision sipped his tea. “Did you sleep well? The sheets looked quite tangled,” he asked.

Wanda almost choked, the last moment of her dream flashing in her mind’s eye. 

“Just some weird dreams.”

“Do you remember any of them?”

“Not really. They were pretty confusing.” She took a big bite of her scone, going for nonchalant. 

It wasn't a lie. Wanda had no idea what her subconscious was trying to tell her with a hot professor sex dream starring Vision. Except that she really _really_ needed to get laid before this little crush got out of hand.

Vision only nodded, taking her word for it. For once Wanda was grateful for his utter obliviousness.

“I wonder what it’s like to dream.”

“You don’t dream?”

“No, there’s no need. They are primarily useful to help the human mind process all the information it collects. But the mindstone provides my waking mind all the processing it needs in real time.”

“Huh. Cool.” It was all she could think to say. 

Wanda sometimes forgot what a singular being Vision was. For all his endearingly human gaffes, his mental acumen was almost alien in its brilliance. While everyone else was thinking about their next meal or distraction or fuck, Vision used his brainpower to analyze the world’s crises and architect solutions.

She wondered if he even thought about sex the way a normal person did. He didn’t really need to eat, so hunger was a foreign concept to him. She was curious if his sexual desire was the same way. He did have feelings, she knew that, however tightly he controlled them. But was lust a bodily need or a feeling?

“I must catch up on some briefings, if you don't mind,” Vision said, stopping her train of thought from veering into the philosophical. "But once I have finished we should discuss our strategy for tonight."

“Yeah, ok.”

They lapsed into companionable silence, each lost in their own little world. Vision's eyes closed and they started to jitter under his lids as he read via his mental interface. 

Wanda munched on a raspberry scone, feeling awkward. She felt newly aware of Vision's body, the heat he gave off sitting close beside her, the unique scent of him, his fine eyelashes fanned against his cheek. 

She had fallen asleep replaying the moment he held her safe in his arms, his eyes intent on her, his soft words. He had held her like that before on battlefields. Yet it felt different last night.

Maybe it was because his words last night felt like a confession. She had never known a man to be so open, so artless. But this was Vision and he was unlike other men in just about every other respect to begin with. Was he simply expressing his strong feelings of friendship in his classic overly sincere way? Or was it an attempt to flirt with her? Did he even know? The questions plagued her.

The android under scrutiny made neither verbal or mental mention of last night.

Wanda’s eyes drifted to Vision’s hands, encircling his warm cup of tea. If he touched her now they would feel hot against her cool skin. She could almost remember the feel of those long fingers digging into her hips, positioning her with confidence. 

Her cheeks warmed and she looked away. 

Damn vivid psychic dreams.

> ✧ <

Wanda walked through the tall doorway that marked the entrance to the British Museum. She scanned the expansive room before her, taking in every exit. In one efficient sweep, she took in the twin deity sculptures soaring overhead on stilts, the faux Roman temple facades further back, the tessellated triangle structs spanning the glass dome roof far above. 

It was surprisingly crowded. Well-dressed people stood in scattered clumps, the din of their conversations echoing off the walls. 

No sign of Vision. He should be here by now. They had decided to arrive separately, as Wanda still had to go pick up her dress and Vision wanted to arrive early to scout.

"Don't engage him until I'm there!" she had warned.

"We're not supposed to engage him at all, I thought," he shot back, that annoying knowing look on his face.

Now that she was finally here at the gala, Wanda was feeling unexpectedly nervous, which frustrated her. This was just an infiltration, a straightforward operation that she had been trained by the best to do. 

But she felt like she had been transported to an alien planet of wealth and privilege. Every person here came from old money or owned some giant corporation or was a goddamn youtuber. They were all just like Stark, untouchable by grace of the vast amounts of money they could throw at any problem to make it disappear. She had joined HYDRA to gain the power to strike at people like that. Seeing them all here, obliviously chortling over champagne flutes in their elegant evening wear, made the anarchist in her bristle. 

She just needed to find Vision before some friendly stranger tried to make conversation with her and she launched into a tirade on income inequality.

"Would you care for a glass, miss?" Wanda turned to find a waiter offering a flute of bubbling gold. She made a move to accept when a hand at the small of her back made her stiffen.

"There you are, my dear," came Vision's voice behind her. She made herself relax, realizing it was just him playing up his role as her date, as they had decided during their strategy session. She caught an unexpected whiff of cologne - a citrusy smell of fig and some spice - as he released her and took two flutes from the tray. The waiter whisked away, off to ply other guests with drinks.

They moved to the less crowded side of the room, near the entrance to the Africa Galleries. 

When she turned around to get a good look at him, Wanda's mouth opened.

Wanda had always wondered what Vision might look like if he ever stepped outside the comfort zone of unassuming dad sweaters.

Unfortunately for her and her raging crush, the answer was: devastating.

The tuxedo, in classic black and white, was tailored to fit his broad shoulders and long frame perfectly. The architectural lines of the suit emphasized the sharpness of his face. She felt like she had never met this Vision. Yet his unapproachable air only made her want to break through it. 

She longed to run her hands down the silky fabric of his jacket, feel the firm chest beneath, feel his shocked intake of breath.

"My apologies, I forgot to ask if you wanted one. Did you?" The subject of her intense gaze spoke. Even his voice lulled her.

Wanda finally noticed the champagne flute Vision held extended in her direction. She barely recovered herself by accepting her glass. Just looking at his hands made her imagine them on her.

"Drinking on a mission?," she asked, trying to focus her ogling eyes on an unprovocative part of his person. Like the tip of his shoulder. That she wanted to dig her nails into.

Damn it.

"One won't hurt. Just for the special occasion." Noting she hadn't taken a sip, Vision raised his eyebrows and took a step closer. "This is the part where we say cheers, yes?"

"Oh, yeah." She held up her glass to his. "Or ' _na zdravie_ ', as we say in Sokovia." 

" _Na zdravie_!" they said as they clinked their glasses. 

Vision made up for his atrocious pronunciation with enthusiasm. 

Wanda barked a laugh before sipping her own champagne. The bubbles fizzled down her throat pleasingly and Wanda suddenly remembered what made parties tolerable.

> ✧ <

Vision had always found Wanda beautiful. Tonight she was positively radiant. 

Looking at her, he finally understood the point of poetry. A mere sentence could not express how he saw her in this moment.

She wore the night sky in dress form. The ensemble consisted of a sheer black gown, a velvet slip of the same color underneath. The style was of an earlier era, with flowing trumpet sleeves and a deep v-shaped neckline that exposed her clavicles and a hint of cleavage. Only sheer will kept him from lingering forever on that lovely sight. His eyes tracked down to the embroidered suns and stars spanning all along the long skirt. An entire constellation wrapped around her body. 

Completing the look, she had painted her face with sparkling gold eye shadow that matched the highlights on her cheekbones and contrasted her plum lips and fingernails. Her hair was half pulled into a round bun atop her head, the rest of it falling in an amber waterfall.

His head went light before he remembered to breathe.

Vision was quickly forgetting what they were doing here in the first place. All he wanted to do was talk to her and drink with her and find innocent excuses to touch her as they walked through the galleries. Would it be so wrong to forget about Klaue and play out this romantic charade?

"C'mon, let's go look for Klaue." Well, Wanda remained all business. Which was probably for the best since he was not thinking logically at the moment.

She tucked her arm in his and Vision silently thanked whatever chance occurrences had taken place in the past that led to this mission with Wanda, if only for the excuse to be close to her. Even if the affectionate gesture was only a cover, he reveled in it.

"You look beautiful, Wanda," he said, pitching his low voice to carry over the voices of the crowd. As he leaned his head towards her, he took the chance to inhale the scent of tea leaves perfuming her hair.

Perhaps he was being too forward. But the champagne had covered his brain in a foggy haze that slowed down all of the usual checks that filtered his speech.

Wanda tried to play off her blushing reaction with a shrug. "Isn't it perfect? I found it in a vintage shop on Brick Lane." 

She took hold of the skirt and gave it a flourish, the gold thread of the stars twinkling with the movement. 

Vision nodded appreciatively. "Yes, the dress is beautiful as well." As an accessory to bring out the gleam in her hair and the sparkle in her eyes. A mere decoration over the toned body underneath it.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Wow, you are really getting into this role. Have you considered acting?"

They wove their way around the gala in a methodical criss-crossing path, eyes scanning every single one of the guests. But they could not find Klaue anywhere.

"Ok, I'm pretty sure he's not one of the guests. And I haven't seen him among the wait staff. But we can't barge into the kitchens without drawing suspicious," Wanda muttered after she tugged him into an alcove away from curious ears.

"We need to get to the security room and see if we can find him on the camera feeds," Vision said thoughtfully. The first coherent idea he'd had so far tonight.

"Oh, good idea. Not bad for a robot," she teased.

Barely a compliment but Vision drank it up like a man dying of thirst.

"According to the building plans I studied, the closest door to the service corridors is in the African antiquities gallery.

They snuck off in that direction. Through the darkened gallery, they wound their way past carved stone lions, seated Egyptian statues, and a strange stunted tree. The lights of the display cases shown in the dark, casting their contents in the unearthly glow of sacred artifacts.

Even as he took in the surroundings, Vision's gaze kept returning to Wanda, leading several feet in front of him. The illumination also revealed the silhouette of her lean legs through the sheer fabric of her gown. He could barely think with such a distracting sight before him.

Vision shook himself. They were on a mission. He would never forgive himself if his inattention led to Wanda getting hurt. 

Besides, Wanda would notice his indecent thoughts if he dwelled on them for too long. 

So he busied himself counting every item in the exhibit.

At last they came upon a tall room whose back wall held a grid of masks, twenty in all. The artifacts peered eerily out at them. Vision half-expected any of them to blink.

"He's close," Wanda hissed. She must have overheard their target's thoughts. She halted in front of the mask wall, the look on her face intent. 

Just then they heard a door creak. As one, they whipped towards the sound, spotting the service door diagonally across the room swing shut.

"He must have gone through there. Hurry," she said in a hush, and made to follow. But then she froze.

"What is it?" Vision asked. Then he saw.

The silhouette of a guard appeared in the arched doorway at the other end of the room.

Horror dawned on Vision as he realized he had no idea what to do in this situation. He was not built for subterfuge. He could not think of a lie quickly enough to explain their presence here.

Then Wanda gave an order straight out of his fantasies.

"Vis, kiss me," she hissed.

She didn't have to ask him twice.

In two strides Vision had Wanda pressed against the wide column behind her, his hands cupping the back of her head. Her hands braced against his chest, but didn't push him away. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, astonished at how quickly his body had moved without the intervention of a complete thought. 

Then, with a fervently hope he was doing this right, he pressed his lips to hers.

Wanda's lips, from which so many sharp retorts fell, were soft. Her body, always held in stiff irritation, melted against his. Either she was an incredible actress or she liked this as much as he did.

Every part of him was going haywire with sensations. His hands tangled in her hair, relishing in the heft of it compared to the fine silk of his own. Wanda quickly took control of the kiss, tugging at his lips with hers, slipping her tongue over them. Just the feel of the damp tip of her tongue made him groan involuntarily. Their bodies pressed together with the sweetest friction. He was painfully, exquisitely hard and he didn't care if she felt it. Perhaps she knew and liked it, if her grip on his shoulders was any indication. 

Vision forgot everything but the feeling of kissing Wanda and being kissed by her. It felt so right. The world could avenge itself for all he cared.

"'ey!" The exclamation shattered everything.

They broke away on a shared gasp, blinking in the flashlight beam of the security guard. For the first time in his life, Vision contemplated violence against an innocent civilian.

"What are you doin' 'ere? Christ, third one tonight. Though you two made it farther than the rest. Come on, lovebirds, I have to escort you off the premises."

"We're so-o sorry, please just let us go back to the party," Wanda responded, laying on the slur a little thick. 

The guard only shook his head, waggling a finger. "Ah ah ah. Time to go."

Vision had finally prepared himself to deliver an offended, "don't you know who I am?" speech he'd seen Stark use once, when Wanda reared her hand back and grabbed the man's head, sending a jolt of magic on contact. 

He face-planted in a dead faint. 

Vision looked at her, still breathing hard, feeling a little dazed. "Why didn't you just do that from the start?"

"That old trick of Nat's was the first thing that came to mind. Thought we could talk our way out of it. We couldn't so I had to risk magic." Her voice sounded unaffected. But she wouldn't look at him. 

"C'mon, we've lost enough time," she said, heading towards the service doors.

Vision stared at her. 

He had no idea what just happened. He had known, going into it, that the kiss was an act. But it had felt true. At least on his part, as he released long repressed feelings with every touch. 

He grew aware of his lips, sensitive and sore in a way he had never felt before. 

After that kiss, he felt different in an irrevocable way. 

"Vis, we need to go," Wanda repeated, already opening the door. Vision had no choice but to follow. 

They burst through the door into the service corridor. 

At the same moment, Ulysses Klaue stepped out of a door down the hall. 

Their wily target was dressed in a technician's uniform, complete with toolbelt. An ideal disguise they should have thought of. The devious man caught sight of them and grinned menacingly. He made no attempt to run.

"If it isn't my favorite sexy sidekick and the walking talking toaster! Fancy meeting you sweetings here! Date night, eh?" His crowing echoed loudly in the narrow hallway. "Love the dress by the way, girlie, very grown-up," he added with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle at Wanda.

Vision's jaw tightened. So much for not facing the outlaw directly. They would have to subdue him until Wanda could call in her mysterious reinforcements. Whoever they were.

"What are you doing here, Klaue?" Wanda demanded. They faced off with him, tense with readiness to spring into action.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Sadly, no time to chat. Ta ta!" 

Wanda gripped Vision's arm tight. "He's set bombs," she hissed. 

In the same moment Vision spotted the smallest movement of Klaue's hand behind his back. 

A loud blast rumbled in the distance. Screams followed.

Vision immediately shed his civilian form. The time for secrecy was past and he would need a recognizable face to calm the panicking gala guests. 

He turned back to coordinate with Wanda. Only to find she had vanished from his side. Spotting her discarded heels on the floor, he glanced up just in time to find her rounding a corner at top speed, in pursuit of Klaue. 

Vision gritted his teeth. Had she forgotten all of her Avenger training? The civilians were always the priority. But there was no time to give in to frustration. He had a building full of people to save.

> ✧ <

Wanda chased Klaue down the hall, holding her skirt off the floor, her bare feet slapping loudly on the linoleum floor. She knew she looked ridiculous, like some goth Cinderella, but she was just glad her skirt was wide enough to tolerate her running strides without ripping. 

This was definitely not how this mission was supposed to go down. Wanda was not, under any circumstances, supposed to reveal herself. She was only supposed to confirm Klaue's location and signal the War Dogs so they could take care of him. But when they ran into him, she slipped too easily into her old Avenger mode, her instincts urging her to throw herself into danger as everyone else ran away. Now the situation was too hot for the covert War Dog operations to make a move.

Ahead of her, Klaue flung himself through a door at the end of the hall. She flung out an arm to throw a bolt of magic to keep it open. It was too late to worry about being recognized by her signature red swathes of magic. 

She would just have to make sure she dealt with Klaue and got away before the authorities arrived.

On the other side of the door, she found a dreamscape: a pitch black room filled with thousands of cheerful glowing balls of every shade of the rainbow, stretching out seemingly into infinity. They must be in the visiting exhibition, she realized, remembering a banner she had seen outside. 

Klaue was brandishing a gun at a small crowd of gala goers who stood frozen by the only entrance to the room. A few of them recorded the scene on their phones with shaking hands. 

"Out of the way!" Klaue yelled wildly. His finger pressed down on the trigger, about to execute one of these poor people simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Wanda wrapped the gun in a red bubble just in time, containing its fired bullet like a firecracker caught in a snow globe. With one sharp gesture, she wrenched the gun away. With the other hand she sent a coiling red snake to snag Klaue around the ankle. He went down with a vile curse.

She ran to the room entrance, putting herself between Klaue and the civilians. 

"Everyone, get out! This man is armed and highly dangerous!" she yelled, making her voice as authoritative as she could. 

The crowd needed no further persuasion. They scrambled back, barely managing not to trip over each other in their haste.

Wanda whirled back to find Klaue standing upright, another gun pointed at her. 

Except it wasn't a gun. His false arm had transformed into a strange glowing cannon. So now he was some kind of cyborg? No one had mentioned that minor detail at the mission briefing. 

This assignment was totally off the rails now.

“Come back everyone, it's the world's cutest Avenger! She's doing selfies!" he called out after the escaping civilians. His gaze did not leave her face.

"Didn’t expect to see you again, missy. Now, not another move or I’ll discombobulate you,” he cooed as he trained the charging weapon on her.

“Just try it,” she retorted deadpan.

"Don't be too cocky now, sweetheart. This is some serious gadgetry. Knicked it from our old friend Ultron." His eye twitched as he spoke the deranged android's name. "Can't you let a beloved colleague go, for old time's sake?"

Wanda held her ground, cutting off his exit. Magic sparked at her fingertips. 

This fight would be decided by the quickest to draw.

"That's a no, then? Pity." 

The mask of mirth dropped from Klaue's face. 

He fired.

Wanda barely got her shield in time. The blast crashed over and around her her like a wave upon a rock. It took out several of the dangling globes, their reflections winking out with them, plunging the room deeper into darkness.

Klaue used her moment of distraction to blast a hole in the wall to his right. He succeeded, revealing another pitch dark room and covering them both in a cloud of plaster. 

Wanda could barely track his movements in the dim light of the colorful balls. She stretched her arms and managed to ensnare him in a magical web. 

Klaue struggled for a few moments, snarling like a mad dog. But it was no use. 

She still sensed no fear from him. Even as he breathed heavily, hovering in her clutches, he switched back to sassing her. 

“I can't believe you left those poor people for dead to come chasing after little old me. Might kick you off the team for that,” he said with a friendly wink.

Her eyes flared in response, an echoing pulse in her magic. She’d had enough of this asshole.

She needed to incapacitate him long enough to give her time to coordinate his arrest. 

Time for a nightmare. 

Wanda strode up to Klaue to grasp his head. She had to let the magical snare drop, as mind manipulation required all of her concentration. But he wouldn’t be able to move once she was done with him anyway. She took a breath, closed her eyes, and delved into his mind.

Memories of sickening violence assaulted her, making her flinch. She experienced them as if looking through Klaue’s own eyes. Foreheads with bullet holes. Disobedient henchmen beaten bloody. The hysterical screams of faithless buyers as he tortured them. Their families watching in horror.

Worst of all, she felt his satisfaction through it all. It was only business, to him.

Delving through his savage psyche, Wanda couldn't find the right fear to leverage against him. He was dulled to all the usual levers: darkness, loss of a loved one, spiders. He didn't even fear death.

With a grunt of frustration, Wanda opened her eyes and barely renewed her magical grip on Klaue in time. Luckily he had been too startled by her psychic intrusion to break free when it weakened.

“Didn’t like what you saw there, eh?” he asked, all bravado once more.

No. Wanda didn't have time to crack this psychopath, not at level she would have to dig. She needed to deal with him now.

Tendrils of red seeped into his chest. He was a danger to everyone, she reasoned, even as her hands shook. His bodycount must rank in the hundreds. He grew rich on weapons that tore families like hers apart. 

Vengeance was long overdue for this despicable man. 

Wanda clenched a fist and Klaue cried out, coughing up blood.

Just like Ultron, she assured herself. Just with flesh.

His eyes grew frantic for the first time. “Now, now,” he panted, “What about your brother, eh? What would he think of his sweet sister killing a man?” 

“If he were still alive, he’d be holding you down,” she replied acidly. 

She listened to the desperate scrambling of his thoughts and felt a cold satisfaction. He would not squirm out of this.

His voice turned conspiratorial. “It’s nasty business, murder. Stains you, body and soul. Take it from your old pal Klaue, you don’t want to get gobs of guts all over that pretty face of yours. It’ll ruin your outfit, to be sure.” 

Wanda clenched tighter, gaze pitiless. The criminal mastermind glared poison right back. Little did he know, she had killed before. Now was her chance at a just kill. If it could make up for even one death she'd caused, she'd do it.

“And your new robo boyfriend? An improvement on the old model, I'll give you that." He coughed, staining his lips red. "But I’m guessing he won’t approve of this sort of thing. So what will happen when he finds you covered in my blood?”

Wanda's cold resolve faltered. He was right. Vision would never understand. He would have no choice but to arrest her. Could she get away in time?

The slip in her concentration was all Klaue needed to wrestle from her hold. 

The man moved quick as a snake. In a smooth motion, he kicked his heel up and snagged a knife from his boot. 

He lunged for her, the knife slashing through the air. 

Wanda was too slow to shield herself. She threw herself backwards. 

But not far enough to escape the slash of his knife across her belly.

Wanda landed heavily on her back. The breath knocked out of her in a pained gasp. She frantically pressed her hands to her stomach. She felt her slick blood, so much blood, probably too much blood. When she touched the edges of the cut, a wave of nausea washed over her.

This was bad. She needed help or she would bleed out in minutes. 

As soon as Wanda was down, Klaue leapt nimbly over her body. His footsteps clattered behind her as he made his escape. She let out a weak curse and her head fell back. 

"V-vis," she tried to say, but it came out in a breathless whimper.

 _Vis_. This time, she cried out with her mind. 

She had never been able to speak telepathically to anyone, not even her brother. There was no way Vis could hear her. 

But if she didn't try, she might die.

Wanda focused on holding in the bleeding and trying not to cry. She was in way too much pain to begin healing herself. Even if she could concentrate enough to use her power, this was far beyond a shallow cut or bruise.

She shouldn't have run off on her own. She left Vision to save all those people on his own. While she all she cared about was her ambition to complete the mission. To prove she still had a purpose, even after she lost her place as an Avenger. 

She just wanted to prove herself to be more than the clumsy monster who murdered all of those people in Lagos.

Oh, Vision. She couldn't die now, because he would be the first to find her. She didn't want to be the first dead friend he had to see. She didn't want him to lose that piece of innocence, the way she had when she beheld the unmoving bodies of her parents.

Her vision darkened. She remembered the feeling of being held close and warm in his arms, the night sky dazzling behind him. She remembered his lips on hers. The kiss that started as a diversion and quickly spiraled into a wild expression of something she was still afraid to name.

She released a shuddering breath. Fuck. This hurt so fucking much.

“Wanda!” 

It was Vision's voice. It came out raw, his refined accent gone rough with terror.

He found her. Had he heard her call?

The android's face swam before her slitted eyes. He was saying something but she didn't know what and couldn't respond anyway. 

All she could think was how he was back to his old self and how oddly comforting it was to see. 

> ✧ <

_nothing fucks with my baby_   
_nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing_

> ✧ <

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will never forgive the Winter Soldier writers for throwing in a fake kiss (you know, the awk one btwn Nat and Steve) that Did Not Advance Romantic Tension. 
> 
> so this chapter corrects that giant oversight.


	7. A Close Cocoon

> ✧ <

_'cause if you let me_   
_here's what i'll do_   
_i'll take care of you_

> ✧ <

There were times in his life when Vision wished he could modify his own source code. In his past life as the A.I. Jarvis, he was able to make small modifications to his own architecture to enable himself to learn and evolve. Small improvements only, of course. The most complex parts of him, his personality, drive, and morality, were only accessible by Tony.

In his current state he had no power to make such changes. The mind stone was a black box that could not be cracked open. Like any human, he was stuck with his flaws. 

Right now, he could really use a load balancer for his emotions. They all clamored for his attention: relief, anger, worry, confusion. He did not know how to manage them. He needed something to organize them into an orderly queue for him to address one at a time.

It turned out replaying the events of the night before was not helping his emotional state. But he couldn't help it. As he watched Wanda rest fitfully before him, Vision slipped into memory.

_Vis._

Wanda's agonized whisper had jolted him as he rescued the last pair of gala guests. He looked around wildly, half-expecting her to turn up behind him. But she wasn't there.

Vision knew something was wrong, so he set down the civilians he carried under each arm, well on his way to a full-blown panic. For the mindstone had started going off too, exactly like when she fought Elektra.

He followed the stone's guidance like a hound follows its nose. 

When he finally found her, his throat closed. She lay on her back, eyes closed, blood pooling around her torso.

One thought rang through his horrified brain. 

Wanda was dying. 

His whole world bent to preventing that.

Vision rushed her to an emergency room, using the full clout of his Avenger status to get her the care she needed, without any questions asked about her identity. As soon as she was out of surgery, despite the admonishment of the doctor, he arranged to have her moved back to the terrace house. She needed privacy and quiet to recover, which she wouldn't find in a hospital full of the noisy thoughts of patients and medical staff.

Only a few hours had passed since he brought her in her bedroom. He could finally take a moment to breathe, knowing she was stabilized and in recovery. 

Vision's eyes had just closed for a short rest when a notification appeared within his mental interface. An incoming call from Stark.

An unexpected spike of resentment arose at the intrusion on this calm lull. A mad part of him wanted to ignore his creator. 

But Vision owed him an explanation for the events of the night before. Easing from the bed, he walked outside on the terrace and closed the doors behind him.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?"

He didn't bother with his phone. Instead he closed his eyes, as if in meditation, and pulled up the video on his mental interface.

“Vision! Where the hell have you been? What happened last night?” 

Tony was not one to micromanage or question Vision's whereabouts. Vision hadn't heard from his creator since a few days ago, when he provided an update with the barest details: he had communicated his warning to Wanda and was now on the trail of Klaue after obtaining fresh intel on his whereabouts. 

He had neglected to mention he was still with Wanda. A lie, but only by omission, Vision comforted himself. 

“I’m still in London. There were some complications last night at the gala. When I confronted Klaue, he created a diversion for himself and escape.”

Vision was getting the hang of this deception business.

“Well, it's a hot mess. Secretary's breathing down my neck to know what you're up to. You need to fly back here _now_ so we can deal with this.”

"I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"What?" Tony's voice went deadly quiet.

Vision blanched. He had not prepared a logical story for this.

"I must attend to some personal business before I return. I will notify you when I am on my way."

"What personal bu-" Tony began to demand, but Vision ended the call. As a final measure, he set up a location scrambler to confuse any GPS locators.

He winced. That was a first. But what could Tony do to discipline him anyway? The idea was equal parts new, terrifying, and empowering.

All Vision knew was that he would not leave Wanda's side until she was safe and well again.

Returning to her bedside, Vision looked down at Wanda's face, still relaxed in dreamless sleep.

His heart eased to see her face softened, the furrow in her brow finally smoothed. She had remained unconscious from the moment she fainted in his arms, not surfacing even once. A protective mechanism of her powers, Vision guessed. 

It took everything in him not to reach out and stroke her face. It did not matter that he knew the exact texture of her softer-than-cashmere cheek and yearned to touch it again. 

For though they had kissed, Vision had no idea where they stood.

He had so many questions. What did that kiss mean? Why did she run off by herself? With her mission an abject failure, what would she do now? He wanted to wake her and demand answers of her, to assuage his own anxieties. He also wanted to hold her tight and lay his head upon her breast to reassure himself of her strong heartbeat. 

There was even a tiny part of him that wanted to flee back to his lonely but uncomplicated life, to a time when he never lied to Tony, when he had a singular purpose, undiluted by strong feelings and contradictory desires.

Vision had no idea what to about these conflicting urges. He had until the time she woke up to decide if he was going to shake her or kiss her.

> ✧ <

Wanda woke but kept her eyes closed to gauge the situation. She didn't remember anything since the fight with Klaue. She twitched her fingers experimentally. Those worked.

Well, she was alive then. That was a relief.

She could not believe she had let herself get stabbed. Or slashed, or whatever. Like a complete amateur.

Wanda continued to investigate her condition. She lay on her back, nestled beneath a fluffy comforter, her neck supported by a stiff pillow. She wore a bandeau she forgot she had packed and her favorite pair of flannel pajama shorts. Her abdomen was wrapped in bandages. 

All she felt was a dull ache, barely a tickle compared to the pain she felt in the moment. She must be on some amazing painkillers.

Light streamed through her lids. A bird warbled nearby. 

Probably not back at the Raft then.

She curled her hands under the covers and sent out a searching pulse. Immediately to her left sat Vision, sitting in a chair dragged in from the kitchen to beside her bed. His thoughts were quiet. Asleep, astonishingly enough. 

Other than the android, she sensed the minds of two others, a ways off. From what little she could make out, their thoughts were comfortingly domestic: pleasure at the taste of coffee, an evolving list of weekend chores. She recognized them as the older couple living next door to the terrace house.

At last Wanda opened her eyes. Vision didn’t stir. He was in his human form once more. Still in his formal dress from the gala, with the tie discarded and the top button of his shirt undone. The angled planes of his face smoothed in sleep, making him look younger. Vulnerable. 

Wanda dragged her gaze away from him and peered about. She was back in her room. Pale light streamed in through the glass French doors leading to the terrace.

She was alive.

She wanted to examine her wound to see if she could heal it the rest of the way. A risk, since she had never attempted healing a laceration as serious as this. But she didn't want to be stuck covalescing when there might be an assassin hunting for her.

Wanda tried to lever herself up to a sitting position. But even with the drugs coursing through her system, that proved to be a bad idea. Flopping back down, she sucked in a breath against the pain.

Vision's eyes flew open. He leaned towards her, hovering without touching her.

"Wanda. How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

"Like I got disemboweled," she replied sardonically.

"It was a near thing." Vision looked a little ill thinking about it.

"How did you know to find me?"

"I heard your voice. And the mindstone led me straight to you."

"You heard me?"

"In my head. You've never done that before, have you?"

Wanda shook her head, a little awed.

Telepathy was one of the facets of her abilities HYDRA had been most interested in. The scientists had exhausted every possible avenue of experiment to test it during her time at the lab. After failed attempts to communicate with various subjects, ranging from Pietro to complete strangers, they theorized that telepathy must require a partner with similar mental powers.

Yet somehow it worked with Vision, who had no psychic abilities whatsoever. The mindstone must really connect them, as Vision claimed. It made sense, oddly. From the moment she met Vision, she sensed an alien sort of awareness from it. As if it recognized her as its own.

Returning to her original goal, Wanda asked Vision, "Will you help me get up? I need these bandages off so I can heal."

"I would not advise you to move just yet. You are to stay in bed for at least three more days. Ideally another week," Vision responded mildly.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them wide. She had never been bedridden longer than a day in her life. 

"By whose orders?"

"Trained medical professionals and concerned individuals who do not wish for you to reopen your wound."

Wanda huffed at that. Vision was usually pretty easy to bully but he did not look open to negotiation on this point.

"But I can heal it!" That came out more petulant than she meant to. 

"Wanda." Vision's tone was stern.

"What?"

"Try to move the watch on your bedside table."

Wanda glanced to her right. Sure enough, the silver watch Vision had worn to the gala lay atop the book she was reading.

She glared back at Vision. Was he patronizing her? She lifted a hand to levitate the timepiece and toss it across the room.

Only no magic emitted from her finger tip. Her head felt muddled, her connection to her powers lost in a fog. The crown of her head began to ache as she strained with effort. To no avail.

Vision took her reaching hand, brushing a thumb across the knuckles to relax it. She let her fingers go limp.

"That's enough. I am sorry, I should not have tried to prove my point. But your stubbornness-," he sighed, "can be irritating." 

She blinked at his admission. Vision was always so unruffled, she never imagined any of her words actually affected him.

Vision looked her in the eye. "You have a full dosage of painkilling drugs in you right now. You must rest," he admonished gently. His thumb continued moving slowly back and forth.

The affectionate gesture made her feel unexpectedly vulnerable. She turned her head away.

"Fine. But let me try tomorrow. Once they've worn off."

"We shall see."

With Wanda's movement and energy so limited, there was little to do but watch movies. Luckily the room was set up for bingeing already, with a large flatscreen hanging from the wall opposite her bed. With her meticulous instruction ("And then you wait until the pops are about three seconds apart"), Vision managed to heat up a bag of popcorn with minimal burning.

They started with Clueless. Wanda loved high school coming-of-age movies. She loved them for the fantasy of "normal life" they presented. The classrooms, the outfits, the high-stakes relationship drama, even the California sunshine, were of a world as unknown to her as any planet in the Star Wars universe.

Vision watched intently, as if the movie contained clues to the secret of human existence.

Wanda became pointedly distracted by her phone during the kiss scene on the staircase. She had nearly forgotten she kissed Vision last night. She didn't know what she was thinking. It had gotten completely out of hand. Because she had liked it. Liked it so much she lost herself in it for a second there.

She couldn't pretend she hadn't felt Vision's rush of powerful feeling as they held each other. That deceptive kiss held a shared truth of want.

There was no way she would bring it up. With their star-crossed situation, it wasn't like they could just start dating. So what could come of it, a one-nighter to get it out of their systems? Wanda couldn't bring herself to do that to Vision. First, because he was her friend and she didn't want to hurt him. And second, because he was a virgin in every sense of the word, completely unprepared for casual sex.

Realistically she needed to start making plans to leave as soon as she recovered. Their time together was coming to an end shortly. There was no point going down that road if it would only hurt them both.

The reality check left Wanda unable to enjoy the rest of the movie. 

As the credits rolled, Vision declared, “I had to look up the meanings of at least thirty idioms used in dialogue.”

“Yeah, the 90s were weird.”

They chatted a little longer, until Wanda's eyes grew heavy. Apparently even movie-watching was a strenuous activity for her at this point.

As she drifted off, Wanda felt fingers move a lock of hair to the side of her face. The gentle touch soothed her as she slipped back into oblivion.

> ✧ <

Vision passed the rest of the day within the cocoon of Wanda's room, alternatively watching whatever films she picked and catching up on Council briefings as she rested. 

At some point, noticing Vision's discomfort sitting on the kitchen chair, Wanda invited him to stretch out on the bed beside her. He made a show of resisting, but she just stared him down and patted the space beside her. So Vision carefully arranged himself on the bed, leaving barely a hands breadth of space between them. 

As Legally Blonde ended, Vision felt Wanda's head loll to the side, her cheek coming to rest against his shoulder. Her breath evened out as sleep took her once more. 

Fondness flooded him. He was happy she trusted him again.

Vision told himself regaining her trust was enough. She still hadn't said a word about the kiss. He had to accept it meant nothing to her, just a tactic. 

Meanwhile, for his part, the experience had become fully incorporated into his closely-guarded fantasies. The ones he could only dare entertain when Wanda was away or deeply asleep.

Vision craved her touch. He had never been subject to a craving before so he could not be sure. But what else could he call this obsession with the curve of her cheek, every wayward quirk of her lips, the feel of her skin. 

What did one do in such situations, when the object of one's affections proved obstinately oblivious? Movies made it clear a confession of love was necessary, ideally accompanied by a grand gesture. He didn't even know what he wanted from her, not exactly. And he didn't have the first idea how to ask.

After an hour, a background timer process went off with a resonating ding in Vision's head. Loathe as he was to awaken Wanda from her peaceful sleep, it was time to change her wound's dressing.

Armed with a box of sterile bandages, Vision woke Wanda with a gentle murmur. As she blinked awake, he pulled the cover down, chuckling at her involuntary yelp at the loss of warmth. 

With utmost delicacy he peeled the bandages from her abdomen to reveal her healing wound. The sight was enough to distract him from the pleasing feel of her skin against his fingers.

A grim dark red line stretched diagonally from just under Wanda's right breast to her waist. The stitches were neat and tidy. Vision should be glad to see her wound so expertly treated. But it only reminded him of the excruciating pain she had suffered in obtaining it. 

Fury towards Klaue gripped him.

"Vis." Wanda's steady voice broke the silence.

"Mm?"

"You're crushing the box," she pointed out.

Vision lifted his fist to find the box of bandages had indeed been crushed. He unclenched his hand and set it down on the bed. Thankfully the contents were unaffected.

With a deep breath to clear his head, Vision began applying fresh bandages around the injury. He monitored Wanda's expression out of the corner of his eye but she showed no visible signs of discomfort.

“Why were you so reckless?” The question fell between them. He hadn't meant to ask it, though it had been burning in his throat.

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking," she said, continuing to stare resolutely at the ceiling.

Vision was disappointed by the evasion. 

The silence stretched between them. He finished the final layer of bandaging. To keep his hands from lingering about her waist, he busied himself returning the comforter to its original cozily tucked state.

Wanda surprised him by speaking again, sounding exasperated. “Vis, I know it was stupid. You don't have to tell me. I thought I could handle it, OK? But I was wrong."

"I do not mean to remonstrate you. I wish to understand," he replied cautiously.

"I just... I just wanted to do something right for once. And then I fucked it all up. And then you had to come in and finish the job. Again.”

He was confused by the last word. "What do you mean?"

She looked away but he could see the tightness in her jaw.

"I thought I killed Ultron. I thought I avenged Pietro. But I failed. It was you who killed him in the end."

Vision was perplexed. Had she been holding on to this regret for all this time?

"Ultron was an immensely powerful foe. We all did our part to take him down. You dealt the crippling blow when you destroyed his most lethal body."

Wanda waved dismissively. "Fine. But you got the satisfaction of purging him from this world forever."

Vision shrugged helplessly. "Why must it be only you? We could have taken Klaue down together."

"He was going to get away, Vis. And I knew you wouldn't leave those people."

"I wish you had stayed with me." 

There, he said it. The truth lodged in his throat.

"I know," she said a little sadly. "All I thought about was catching him."

“Even if his capture came at the cost of your life?” Vision couldn't help the sharp tone. 

“If it came to that. The world would have been rid of two menaces.” 

His expression softened from mutinous to understanding. “You are not a menace.”

“I’ve killed people.”

“You’ve saved many more. You are needed here.”

“It doesn't feel that way. I'm a pariah to the rest of the world. And when I imagine having to live like this forever, alone... I just don't want to deal with it anymore." Her voice dropped even quieter. “It was hard enough going on without him at the start. Now it’s almost too much.”

Vision felt her words acutely. Even years after his death, Pietro's shade hung over Wanda. No words would resolve that grief.

“So I guess that's why I was reckless. Why work so hard to preserve my life? No one would miss me anyway.”

Without thinking Vision caught Wanda's hand in his own, engulfing it between his palms.

“I would.” 

She nodded once, looking at their hands. Her fingers curled within his grasp.

Words fell freely from Vision's lips. “I do not like to hear you speak so carelessly of your own life. I wish, more than anything, that I could help you bear this burden.”

"I just want...” Wanda began before trailing off.

“What do you want, Wanda?” he prompted. He hung on her words, irrationally hoping that whatever she desired might include him in some way, shape, or form.

"I don't know. To go live in obscurity on an island in the Mediterranean," she said, breaking the tension with an unexpectedly loud exhalation. She slipped her hand from his.

"Perhaps something can be arranged once you are healed," he said to play along, barely recovered from the abrupt shift of the conversation.

It was clear Wanda did not want to dwell any longer in the emotional well they had lowered themselves into. 

Vision considered what she had revealed. Wanda was generally so stalwart, he would never have known that she carried these insecurities about her purpose or the degree of hopelessness that weighed upon her. 

It made him want to hold her close and kiss her until she felt in her bones how deeply missed she would be if she threw her life away. 

But for now he could distract her with light talk of the future.

"So, then, what exactly would you like to do in your dream island life?"

Wanda tapped her chin with a finger. "Make a killing as a fortune-teller."

> ✧ <

The next morning, Wanda awoke feeling ravenous and sore. The drugs were finally out of her system, and all the numbed feelings came rushing back.

Vision made her eat first to regain her energy, bringing up a wooden tray with a bowl of oatmeal and fresh glass of orange juice. 

Sitting up was extremely painful but she made it to a partially vertical position, propped up against several pillows.

After breakfast, she removed her bandages to examine her wound. Vision paced the room anxiously, still not entirely on board with this self-healing plan, but unable to persuade her from it. 

One inch at a time, gritting her teeth all the while, Wanda undid the stitches using magic and willed the released section to speed its healing. It took time, a high degree of pain tolerance, and all of her concentration, but she managed to take care of her entire slash wound. Only a reddened scar remained, which she hoped would fade with time.

Vision gaped at the sight.

"You truly are a power to behold, Wanda."

She rolled her eyes, waving dismissively. But inwardly she beamed at the impressed note in his voice.

Later that afternoon, the two were playing checkers when something occurred to Wanda.

"I should probably call Nat," Wanda mused. She hadn't heard from the woman yet. Surprising, from the woman who demanded text check-ins at least once a day. 

She twirled a finger. One of her red checker pieces hopped forward a space on the checkerboard perched precariously on the breakfas tray. While her wound was healed most of the way, she still felt weak, so she remained resting in her bed.

"I suppose," Vision responded, sounding a little too casual. He moved his own black piece after a moment of grave contemplation.

"Just to tell her I'm ok." She sensed Vision's unease. "What's wrong?"

At length he replied, "She will want to take you back."

"Yeah, so?"

"I would prefer not to move you until you are fully recovered."

"I'll be fine. They've got-" She cut herself off, realizing she had almost revealed that her connection to Wakanda. Best to keep Vision in the dark about that. "Nat will take good care of me. Then you can get back to work."

Vision didn't respond, apparently refocused on plotting his next move.

They finished the rest of the game in silence (Wanda won again, always one step ahead of Vision's brilliantly calculated strategy). Afterwards Vision stood abruptly.

Sore loser much, she wondered, bemused. But he only went over to the dresser, reached into the top drawer, and came back with her phone.

She felt the barest brush of his fingers on her palm as he passed her the black rectangle. She smiled in thanks. He quirked his lips in return.

She swiped the phone on and unlocked it with the eye scanner.

She had at least 20 missed calls, all from Nat, and one text from Clint: 

_WHere Are you... Nat is freaking out... Call her..._

Fuck, she was in trouble.

Nat picked up on the first ring. She muttered a Russian expletive in greeting. Followed by: "Where the fuck are you?" 

"I'm in London. Can't you track me?" She thought this phone had the latest in Wakandan GPS or something.

"I was until your phone's signal disappeared off the face of the earth." Wanda glanced at Vision, who was studiously replacing their checkers in the box.

"What address?" Nat snapped at her.  
  
"Can't remember. I'll text you."

"Wanda, do you understand how worried I've been? I didn't even know you were in London until the news footage of Vision at the museum came out. You're lucky you weren't caught on film." Nat's typically flat tone betrayed some tension.

"I know but I'm fine. I went after Klaue-" 

"You were explicitly told not to-"

Wanda powered through Nat's interruption. "I know, I know, I'm an idiot. Anyway he got the jump on me and stabbed me. But Vision saved me."

"Stabbed where? Are you at a hospital?" 

"In the stomach. No, not any anymore. It's healing now, don't wor-"

"I'm coming to get you. Tell Vision to turn off his scrambler _now_ and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"But-"

"Absolutely no buts. We need to get you back here and get you real treatment. Besides, I've lost track of Elektra's movements and it's got me worried."

Wanda knew that tone. Nat was coming for her come hell or high water.

"Fine."

"And, Wanda?"

"Yeah?"

"We are going to talk about this."

"Yeah. See you." She hung up.

Wanda's eyes lifted to Vision, now innocently setting the checkers box back on the stack of boardgames on the other side of the room.

"Vis, what scrambler is she talking about?"

The android tapped the boardgame boxes to line them up evenly. "I may have set one up to shield our location. To prevent tracking by outside parties." He adjusted a book that jutted out further than the rest, still refusing to look at her.

Wanda massaged her temples. "You can't do that, Vis. Nat probably thought I died." She winced, imagining the terror Nat must have felt when she hadn't checked in. She never missed a check-in. "Also this is exactly what a kidnapper would do."

"I know. I suspected I would only buy a few days with it anyway."

"Vision, look at me."

Finally he turned to face her, arms folded against his chest. He fixed her with that unblinking stare, the look in his eyes making her recall his true form. 

Wanda stared right back, eyebrows raised.

Finally he tilted his head towards the ceiling. "I wanted time. Away from all the politics." He sounded unusually resentful.

"You know this can't last forever. This was always going to be a temporary team-up."

She knew she sounded cold but this conversation was long overdue. They needed to be realistic.

He came to sit beside her. "Why does it have to be? What is stopping us from continuing to see each other?" The yearning in him was stark.

"You know why we can't do that. I am a criminal. You're the Avenger's golden boy. The longer we run around like this, the more likely it's all going to explode in our faces."

"But I'm certain we can-"

"Vis. It can't happen." She sighed. "This is probably the last time we'll see each other for a while. Maybe ever."

"You don't mean that."

"I do. I won't risk the Raft."

"I would never let them take you again," he said fiercely.

"And then they would throw us both in! This is exactly what I mean! If we continue seeing each other like this, you will have to choose between me and the world. And I won't force that choice upon you."

"So you'll just give up." The fight seemed to leave him then. 

Wanda hated how easily she could read his disappointment, seeing the fledgling hopes in his thoughts she crushed.

"I wish things had been different. But they're not."

Vision gazed at her for several moments. She held it, staring into those shimmering irises.

He dropped his head. "You're right." 

He left the room.

It was easier this way, Wanda told herself. She didn't need another close bond weighing her down. Another person whose presence she ached for. Time to cut this off before it ensnared her further.

Though it might already be too late for that.

> ✧ <

_why don't i stop it?_   
_still got time for me to stop it_   
_it's like a part of me must want it_   
_that's why i'm not running from it_

> ✧ <

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh they're teetering on the edge, these two. 
> 
> gonna up the rating to E for the next chapters, kukuku..


	8. A Good Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaa so, final call for ppl who don't like explicit stuff, this chapter gets s p i c y

> ✧ <

_darling, the sky makes me sad_   
_the blues got me bad_   
_oh i just need a good cry_

> ✧ <

While Vision was gone, Wanda quickly threw on a hoodie and jeans. She needed some air. She suddenly couldn't stand to be in this house any longer.

"I'm going out," she said as she passed him in the entryway. 

Vision only inclined his head. He didn't try to stop her or urge her to rest as she expected.

Wanda didn't know where to go. She just walked. Up and down the well-manicured streets of the wealthy London suburb. 

It was afternoon. She saw children returning from school. One group of friends trotted merrily up to the steps of a grand old brick home where one of them must live. She felt the prick of envy as she watched them. They had everything: a home, parents, friends, the type of blissful childhood everyone talks about but only the most privileged seemed to have.

Wanda had been making decisions for herself and Pietro since they were ten years old. When their family's apartment caved in and they lost their parents, they lost any semblance of stability, and with it, any chance at a childhood.

Every time she thought she'd landed somewhere safe and reached a daily ritual and rhythm, something came in to blow it all up. She'd never felt safe in the few foster homes they were sent to - each family had been in it for the money only. But once she and Pietro ran away and joined with an underground gang, she thought she'd found a place and a cause. They'd run wild, joining protests and riots. With their friends, She and her brother dared hope they had found something like family again.

And then some of those friends got recruited by HYDRA. And then the whole gang joined up. The bureaucracy of the mysterious organization knew better than to allow existing loyalties to fester, so they split the group up, assigning their friends to distant posts. 

Most they never heard from again. 

Then Wanda and Pietro were offered the opportunity to participate in a study.

Adaptable things that they were, they even managed to find some dull quotidian as experimental subjects. Day after day spent testing and training their newly awakened powers. They learned which guards they could bribe into bringing them treats from the outside. And which ones had been chosen specifically for their sadism. 

And then Ultron showed up and tried to blow up the world. She lost Pietro. And suddenly she was an Avenger.

It took time to grow used to her new life. But once she did, everything clicked. Something about being on the team felt right. It gave her purpose. A reason for her past suffering. She believed all the events of her life had been preparing for this task: to save people all over the world. To protect them from the tragedy that befell her family.

She had been satisfied and, in better moments, happy, for the first time in a long time. Even without Pietro by her side.

She should have known it couldn't last. Nothing in her life ever had.

And here she was, trying her best to move on, like she always had. But Vision was making it harder, refusing to leave her alone and let go, and for that she resented him. Even as, deep down, some part of her wanted to reach back.

"Hey!" called a voice from behind her as she strode down the street. It jostled her completely from her brooding. She'd been so preoccupied she hadn't maintained any situational awareness.

She halted and turned, intuitively knowing the voice was calling after her.

A teenage boy ran up to her. "I know you! You're Wanda, the Avenger! You're my favorite! I was absolutely devastated when you left the team." He ceased his gushing as realization dawned on him. "Wait, didn't they arrest you? Are you free now? Will you take a selfie with me?"

The street was by no means crowded, but there were witnesses. A man walking his small white dog across the street. A woman watering the roses in her front yard's garden. Two neighbors gossiping by their shared mailbox. Their eyes all slid over to the commotion the boy was causing.

Wanda's mind went blank with panic.

What an idiot she'd been. As if a hoodie and new hair were enough to hide her from recognition for the rest of time. She should have been monitoring the thoughts around her instead of drowning in her own. She stood frozen as the boy pulled his phone from his back pocket.

Wanda needed to do something drastic. Now.

"Not here," she said, too brightly, pasting an expression that was more grimace than grin on her face. She took his arm, dragging him roughly towards the closest narrow alley just ahead.

"Sorry, don't want to cause a swarm. I'm undercover!" she said as a paltry excuse. The boy was, luckily, too dazzled to pay any mind to her thin justification.

Once she was sure they were out of sight, she rounded on the teen. He smiled obliviously, swiping to unlock his phone.

Wanda's only option was to put him in a fear trance. It was the only thing she knew would leave him with amnesia around their meeting. It was horrible; she knew the boy was nothing but an innocent fan. But she had no choice. The moment her face went on any social media, the authorities would track her down in no time.

She grabbed his phone in one hand and grasped his cheek with the other. The boy's eyes rolled back into his head. As quickly as she could, she darted about the surface of his mind, looking for anything he was mildly afraid of. She didn't want to traumatize the boy.

There. A vague childhood memory of being toppled over by a dog as tall as he was. She dropped his dream self running down a darkened street and set a long-legged hound after him. 

Wanda caught him as deep sleep took him and his knees buckled. Gently she lowered him to the ground, arranging his body to sit leaning against the brick wall.

Her breathing sounded loud and sharp in her ears. For a moment she could only stare in horror at what she'd done.

Wanda hated what she'd been reduced to, forced to invade this poor boy's mind and erase even the memory of seeing her face. She hated herself for doing it. But the fear of the Raft bound her.

Time sped up again. The faint sounds of dogs barking and cars pulling into driveways returned. Such a hastily constructed illusion wouldn't last long. The boy would only remained passed out for a few more minutes.

Wanda took off at a dead sprint.

> ✧ <

Wanda slammed the door when she got back. She threw herself down on the couch. She was safe for now.

Vision poked his head in, looking perplexed. “Is everything alright?” he asked.

“I was recognized,” she mumbled into the throw pillow.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. Please repeat that.” Vision’s voice sounded closer this time.

Wanda finally turned her head so she faced him, her cheek squished against the pillow. Vision knelt in front of her, concern written across his features.

“I was recognized by someone. On the street.”

“Ah,” Vision replied with a frown. “You dealt with it, I presume?”

“Yes. I think so.” She begged him silently not to ask how. She couldn't take Vision's judgment right now.

Vision closed his eyes briefly. Reopening them, he said, “There’s nothing about you trending currently. You must have pulled it off.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, both at the information and his choice not to pry. Suddenly the day caught up with her. Her head ached fiercely as her gut twisted with remorse. And hunger.

Their short dinner passed in silence. Any further conversation suddenly felt weighty, like it might be the last one they had for a while. Or forever.

Afterwards, to avoid talking, they threw on yet another movie. But she couldn't even concentrate on 10 Things I Hate About You, though it was one of her favorites. She felt too despondent. 

It didn't help that Vision's mood was apparent without even reading him. The android positively drooped like a sun-deprived plant.

Wanda kept circling back to her interrupted brooding. She tried to convince herself she was making the right decision in cutting things off. Yes, their reconnection had given her a fleeting hope that they might rekindle their friendship. But as the incident today showed, she would always be at risk in the real world. And Vision couldn't very well visit her in Wakanda. That was not her secret to share. 

There was no place for them.

They would just have to go back to the way things were before they ran into each other in Paris. Slowly but surely forgetting about each other. Just another relationship from a phase of her life that faded to nothing as she moved on to the next. She had done this time and time again, first with her anarchist comrades, later with the only HYDRA agent who had shown her a modicum of kindness. 

She could do it again.

Wanda could already tell it would hurt a lot more this time. Leaving had never felt like such a physical ache before. An ache like grief.

> ✧ <

The dream started at the dinner table, Wanda's ten year-old brother sitting across from her, their parents on either side of them. She and Pietro were debating something - she never could remember what it had been about - while her parents carried on some grown-up conversation over their heads. 

She’d seen this scene play out in countless dreams. She tensed, waiting for the fateful moment, that eerie whistling sound before everything went to shit.

But it didn’t. Nothing happened. Until the dream before her changed, and she saw her family again, on their front stoop. This time, Pietro was a teenager, slinging a backpack over one shoulder. Her father kissed her on the cheek. Her mother handed her two brown paper bags. Wanda took them with a smile, then hopped down the steps to catch up with her brother.

The dream kept shifting, showing her moment after ordinary moment of her family’s life in this alternate timeline. All the mundane yet precious highlights of high school, the kind she only knew from movies: drunk adventures with her friends, guitar lessons, a slow dance with a tall delicate-featured blond. 

Finally she saw herself lugging a suitcase down the steps. She hugged her parents tightly, eyes watering, even though she wanted to be strong for them. She almost broke down when she stepped back and saw the shine in their own eyes. She turned away quickly and caught up to Pietro. 

The twins shared a secret glance, full of that unspoken understanding they had always had, and set off.

Wanda woke herself with a sob. She struggled to force herself breathe slowly. But she couldn’t hold back the outpouring of feeling. 

It was the cruelest dream her mind had showed her in a long time. A glimpse of the life she might have had.

She turned her head against her soft pillow. Her stifled whimpers sounded loud in the dark silent room. 

Suddenly she heard the strange buzz that accompanied Vision’s phasing. In an instant he was beside her.

“Wanda, are you well?” Vision sounded worried. She felt his hand wrap around her clenched fist.

“No,” was all she could bite out between gasping breaths. The floodgates were open and there was no stopping now.

“What’s wrong? What do you need?” he asked with increased distress.

Even if Wanda could speak, she had no idea what she needed.

She felt Vision's weight depress the mattress. The warmth of his long frame blossomed all along her back and calves as he folded against her. His hand came to lay lightly on her shoulder. She felt the tension in him, like he was ready to bolt the moment she asked.

She reached up to clasp the hand on her shoulder with her own. 

Tucked snugly against Vision, his warm breaths at her neck, Wanda came undone, finally unraveling all of the knots she had tied within herself.

She cried for her younger self, getting her period for the first time with no mother to guide her. She cried for all the times her heart broke a little at the sight of a father holding hands with his daughter. 

She cried for the days since Pietro's death when she woke up and for the briefest instant forgot he was gone. Then remembered.

Vision's hand began to stroke tentatively along her arm. The slow rhythmic touch soothed her. Even as the gentle care in the gesture made her weep anew. She hadn't been held like this since she was a child.

Finally, after what felt like ages, she quieted. She lay curled in on herself. Though her sobs had subsided, her eyes still streamed.

Vision said nothing as she focused on quieting her mind. Her breaths lengthened, except for an occasional hiccup. She closed her swollen eyes.

A scene flashed in her mind. From a perspective not her own, she saw herself floating among the stars high above a forest. 

Then, she saw herself through her cracked bedroom door, playing guitar, singing hesitantly. 

Memory after memory appeared in her mind’s eye. One where she laughed with Nat and Rhodes as they watched a deadly serious match of pool between Sam and Steve. Another where she reunited a sobbing mother and child on the battered streets of Novi Grad. 

One where she looked up from across a table, face lit with simple happiness, a bowl of paprikash before her. 

Dimly Wanda realized Vision had figured out a new way to communicate over their mindstone connection. These were his memories he was sharing with her.

“Wanda, I am sorry you must carry this pain. I can’t bear to see you suffer,” Vision said in a rough voice, his mouth so close she felt his breath against her ear. Ever so gently, he stroked her hair away from her neck. 

“I can’t,” he repeated, sounding dazed. He pressed his lips to her nape. 

She shivered.

They lay quietly like that for a time. As Vision gently nuzzled her neck, Wanda relaxed, feeling the loosening of the final knot of tension within her. 

She dozed, exhausted from her cry.

Images flitted on the edge of her awareness. Her face smiling a knowing grin, the sunlight hitting her eyes to bring out a golden green. The swell of her breasts as she caught her breath on the airfield concrete. Her fingers brushing his palm as she took crystals of salt. Up in the sky, her warm body an exquisite burden in his arms. 

Her shadowed form sprawled on her bed, a hand between her legs, abandoned to pleasure. 

The dream shifted. She lay on that bed, back at Avengers headquarters. In the exact same position as that fateful night, staring into Vision's shocked face.

Only this time he did not flee. He joined her on the bed. His hands replaced her own, stroking all along her body, making her tense and wet. In the dream she openly relished his touch, moaning breathlessly, twisting underneath his ministrations.

Wanda felt a hand move slowly along her waist. 

Something thrummed throughout her body at the touch. 

That was not a dream. That was real.

At that moment Wanda felt Vision's long hard cock pressing against her ass. Answering need arose within her.

Distantly, she was amazed. She knew he yearned for her, in an abstract way. She hadn't known he wanted her like this. This was pure physical need. 

Even as her mind reeled, her body flared to life. 

She had emptied herself of her sorrows. Now she needed to be filled.

Vision seemed to belatedly realize what he'd just revealed. He scrambled to push away.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't- Given your current emotional-," he stammered, then cut off with a strangled breath when Wanda scooted back, pressing herself against him in the same intimate position. 

Wanda felt spellbound by the erotic visions, the proximity of his body, the darkness, her own vulnerability. It all made her strangely bold. Bold enough to demand the comfort she desperately craved. Bold enough to ignore all the reasons why two close friends on opposites sides of the law shouldn't fool around.

"Vis, it's ok," she said softly, still facing away from him. Looking away made it easier. She didn't have to think about what this meant. 

Vision pressed close again, grinding against her instinctively. His lips dragged across the back of her neck. Her heartbeat climbed. Their breathing grew ragged.

Wanda needed him to touch her _now_. But Vision hesitated. She decided to try sending her own imaginings via their mental connection. 

His right hand, stroking along her arm, hip, and thigh. The left, snaking under her head to play at her collarbones, the tops of her breasts. His lips trailing kisses along her shoulders.

Whatever she had done must have worked, because Vision made her fantasies come true. Soon she was writhing against him, the tightening in her core growing unbearable.

“Ever since that night, when I saw you touching yourself," Vision confessed between kisses, "I dreamed of touching you." 

She interrupted with a gasp when he glided his finger over her stiff nipple through her thin bandeau. 

"Yes, I wanted to make you sound like that. I've wanted to bring you such pleasure." His voice was completely different, filled with satisfaction. He ground his cock against her and stroked her breast to drive his point home.

His touch, his firm heat, his husky voice, all of it made her speechless with want. In one hasty motion she tugged off both her pajama shorts and underwear. Taking his right hand, she guided it between her legs. 

Vision inhaled sharply at the feeling of her bare sex.

For a moment it was all too obvious he had never done this before. His touch was light, unsure. Wanda writhed. In in his tentative exploration he ran his middle finger straight up and sure along her seam, hitting every desperate nerve ending. 

Wanda gasped.

Listening to her helpless sounds, Vision proved a quick study. He stroked a finger between the slick folds, harder and faster at her urging. He stroked back up to her clit. Hearing her sharp moan, he teased the same spot, circling it slowly at first. Then faster, and faster. As he did so, he sucked on the point where her neck met her shoulder.

The tightness within her crescendoed.

"Wanda!" His hoarse gasp of her name sang through her like a plucked guitar string.

She hissed a stream of Sokovian expletives as waves of pleasure wiped out all thought. She could only feel. Like a faint echo she heard Vision repeat her name again and again, his tone equal parts raw emotion and reverence.

They lay together in the darkness, panting quietly, Vision's arm tucked around her belly. 

For a few moments, Wanda thought of nothing but the delicious looseness of her limbs. Everything else had ebbed from her mind. She hadn't felt this sated in a long time. She couldn't even open her eyes.

She couldn't believe what had just happened. 

A contented smile stretched onto her face. She couldn't resist it. Not when Vision's hand was stroking all along her side, from her shoulder to waist to her thigh and back up again. As if reveling in the feel of her skin.

Not when she was still quaking a little on the inside.

Vision murmured against her hair, "Sleep now."

Wanda wanted to protest. She could still feel him, hard and straining. She wanted to touch him too. She wanted to stay up all night, making up for all the time they wasted holding themselves back. 

But sleep overtook her like a predator lying in wait.

> ✧ <

Some time around dawn, Vision extricated himself carefully from Wanda's bed. Wanda gave a disappointed whine but didn't waken. Though he echoed her sentiments and was loathe to move, he was more concerned that he might explode if he didn't take action soon. 

In the bathroom of his own bedroom, he stripped off his suffocating clothing. He leaned over the sink and took himself in hand. With a shudder, he began to stroke slowly, easing his way towards release. He usually liked to take his time.

But after last night, he ached for harder, firmer motions. He bit his lip and quickened his pace. His eyes closed and memories arose.

He hadn't been able to resist her last night. He knew she wanted space. She was trying to make their farewell easier for both of them. But the sound of her smothered sobs had pierced through him. 

Vision couldn't let her cry alone. 

He thought it would be enough to hold her. When he fitted against her, the length of her body pressed against his own, he felt a surge of satisfied possession. Even as her shaking shoulders filled him with an echoing sadness, he felt a perverse happiness that she trusted him with the depths of her sorrow.

At first, he thought only to soothe her with pleasant memories. He sifted through some of his own, hoping she could read them. The magic of the mind stone seemed to work as he hoped.

Then it proved too effective. Because his body wouldn't let him ignore the fact that he held the most beautiful woman in his arms. That she found comfort in his touch. 

It was a heady feeling, like he'd tamed a powerful beast. 

His thoughts grew carnal. And all the tiny ways she attracted him began to bleed through their connection.

Then he was touching her. Then she showed him where she wanted him to touch her most. He felt her warm slick folds. A symptom of arousal, he knew in theory. In practice, discovering the effect he had on her made him painfully hard, harder than he'd ever felt. 

With each finger stroke of her sex, it had taken everything in him to stay the course, not to follow the base animal instinct to slide inside her and satiate his own burning need.

To distract himself from the temptation, he cataloged every sound he wrung from her: every gasp, every mewl, every hissed inhale. Like a symphony for his most erotic dreams. 

He replayed them now. The sound of her gasped profanity as orgasm shot through her brought on his own. 

Yet the release wasn't enough. 

He needed it with her.

Swaying a little, Vision stepped into the shower and blasted his body with mercilessly cold water. He gritted his teeth and any lingering feelings of arousal were chilled out of existence. 

As his brain recovered from its lust-crazed haze, he ran his hands through his hair in disbelief. 

How had last night actually happened?

He had no idea how he was supposed to act now. 

He could pretend like last night hadn't been an earth-shattering experience for him. 

But he was a terrible liar. 

Or he could use last night's events to shore up his argument to convince Wanda to stay and try to make this work. 

But she was a longtime champion of denying her own feelings for practicality's sake. 

Or he could let her go. 

But he would regret it forever.

Vision took out his frustration on his skin, scrubbing with vigorous motions. He was not used to feeling like an utter fool. This was the sort of drama he only saw in movies. Those plots always resolved themselves neatly through a series of delightful hijinks. 

Vision had no idea what hijinks would be required to stay with Wanda.

His shower ended and he was no closer to making a decision on how to face the situation. So he decided to put it off. He dressed and slipped quietly out of the house.

Over their brief time in London, Vision and Wanda had become partial to a small cafe a short walk away. He knew Wanda's order by heart. A latte, with a new flavor of scone each day.

A secretive smile blossomed on his face. How he loved this feeling, of knowing such small details about her that no one else knew, of understanding her so well that he knew exactly how to care for her.

Vision knew Wanda. He knew she would be hurt by their parting as much as he would be. She refused to admit it, but she needed the few people who truly knew her. She was simply choosing to soldier on, the way she always had.

He couldn't simply let her leave. He had to fight for her, for whatever this cautious and fragile feeling was that was growing between them. 

She might leave today. But he would find her again. He would do it as many times as it took to show her that he didn't care about the past and the law that lay between them. 

He only cared to be the one to make her smile.

As Vision strode down a narrow alleyway shortcut, a wave of dizziness hit him. He stumbled and had to lean one arm against a wall to steady himself. 

But the peculiar feeling came again, even worse the second time. His mind stone flared with painful heat. A warning. 

Then it went cold and dead.

He fell to the ground, grit digging into his palms. 

There was a presence within his mind. He shuddered in terror. It felt eerily similar to the moment when, as Jarvis, he faced Ultron and lost. That same feeling of his entire sense of self subsumed to a foreign entity.

As easy as blowing out a candle, that entity snuffed out Vision's awareness.

> ✧ <

Wanda woke alone. Her momentary worry cleared when she guessed Vision was probably fetching food. 

If she felt any niggling disappointment that she didn't get to wake up in the arms of the absconded android, she quickly squelched it. 

In the light of day, what happened between them felt as impossible as a dream. She almost wished it was. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences.

Standing in the shower, she came to a decision. She had to tell Vision that it was a one-time thing only. She’d been emotionally distraught, she’d needed the distraction. Yes, she’d enjoyed it. Yes, she really, really wanted to do it again. Yes, she really, really, _really_ wanted to know what Vision's cock felt like inside her. 

But it was still a very bad idea to pretend like anything could come of this. 

Vision didn’t have the experience to navigate a casual, fuck-when-we’re-in-town affair; hell, she didn’t either. She didn’t even know what she wanted. All she knew was that anything more serious between them couldn’t work while she was a wanted criminal.

Even as she laid out her argument tidily in her head, memories of last night bubbled up, bringing heat to her cheeks and a familiar coiling deep within her. She imagined him touching her again. Kissing her. Filling her. Holding her. She wanted all of it. 

Wanda closed her eyes, aching with loneliness. Why did everything in her life have to be so fucking hard?

It's for the best, she kept repeating herself. He's just curious about this new human experience. She was the closest potential sexual partner. As soon as she was gone, he could find someone else to teach him about sex and all the confusing emotions that went with it. 

The thought made her drop the shampoo bottle she'd been levitating with a heavy thud. With an angry sigh she picked it back up and turned her thoughts abruptly to what was left to pack.

Wanda had time to dress, put on makeup, and finish packing her duffel bag, and Vision still had not returned. 

Worry wormed its way in her gut. She tried to ignore it.

Wanda went to sit on the couch in the main lounge area on the first floor. Nat wouldn't be here for a few more hours. So she had nothing to do but wait. She picked up a hefty book from the coffee table and flicked through it without really taking any of it in. Then she decided to check her navigation app to determine just how long it estimated a walk to the cafe took.

Vision should have been back by now.

Just then, she heard the front door open. She sprang up from the couch, all her fluttering concerns transmuting into nervous butterflies at the prospect of seeing him again. She went to meet him in the entryway. Her hands clasped behind her to hide their shaking.

Vision stood in the entrance empty-handed. He scanned the house like he had never seen it before. His gaze caught on hers. A narrow-eyed smile tugged at his lips. 

Wanda immediately sensed something was off. 

His silhouette jittered at the edges as he shifted back into his true form. The mindstone looked dull, like a lightbulb gone out. Most worrying of all: Wanda couldn't read him. 

Fuck, she thought, just as he lunged for her. 

Vision's hands closed on empty air as Wanda barely dodged out of the way. She launched herself up to the second floor landing. 

Her heart rate spiked in terror. She tried to read him again but his mindscape was an impenetrable fog. Someone was directing his body's movements like a marionette. Nothing of her Vision remained in his mind. 

Fear settled in her stomach as she realized the only person who could be behind this. Only Elektra could shroud her thoughts so expertly. The assassin was back. And she had come up with a foolproof plan to turn her greatest obstacle into her asset. She was probably hiding safe and sound somewhere, waiting until Vision finished Wanda off before collecting her proof and final payment.

Vision had said the Secretary wanted her dead or alive. After their first bout, Elektra must realize by now the first option would be much easier.

Even as she reeled with horror, cold practicality quickly took over when Wanda realized her life was in genuine danger. 

She couldn’t let Vision get a hand on her. With his strength, he could snap her neck or even rip her heart out with ease.

Vision rose to meet her on the landing. His manner was eerily casual. She remembered the technique from her fight with Elektra - the woman held herself loose so her moves were never telegraphed. 

Suddenly he was right in front on her. He was fast. Too fast for her to catch him in a magical snare like last time. He lashed at her in a rain of jabs, each blow controlled but snapping with vicious strength as he amped up the density of his fist. Wanda kept her hands up in defensive position, knocking away each punch with small glowing force fields.

He dropped low to deliver a kick to knock her off balance. She was caught off-guard by the move, one she had never seen him execute during their sparring sessions. 

Vision swept Wanda off her feet in one smooth motion. 

She went down hard.

A litany of curses singing in her mind, Wanda rolled to a stand as quickly as she could.

Vis knew hand-to-hand combat, but this was a whole new level. The combination of Elektra's masterful skill and Vision's power presented a formidable challenge. One Wanda was not sure she could overcome.

Vision was relentless. Wanda dodged every attack as nimbly as she could, drawing on every ounce of training and an uncanny instinct for where his blows would land. She couldn't afford to take a hit. With power he was packing in those fists, one hit could take her down. 

It didn't help that this was the most cramped space she had ever had to fight in. He was backing her towards the wall, trying to further cut off her movement. 

She wondered for a moment why he wasn't using his deadly lazer. To minimize collateral damage? Then she remembered his unlit mindstone and realized it must be powered down somehow, likely to prevent Elektra from being forced from his mind.

Could Vision's self even survive the mindstone shutting down? Her panic spiked.

Vision feinted to the left, only to lash out with his right arm.

He almost had her. She rolled away with just enough time to feel the air displaced by the snap of his arm. His fist hit the wall behind her, driving into the stone almost up to his elbow. 

The blow reverberated through the whole house, causing the chandelier hanging over the entry to chime and sway. Plates crashed off in the distance. There went the deposit, Wanda thought inanely.

Her heart quailed.

One wrong move was all it would take. She needed to take him out now, before she got herself killed. 

Pacing backwards, Wanda wrung every last drop of her power into her hands. They glowed bright candy-apple red, the same color filling her eyes. She stared down Vision as he advanced for his next attack. 

Waiting until the last second, Wanda slipped under Vision's guard and pressed her hands to the sides of his face. 

He stilled at the touch, giving her a flicker of hope. She poured her will into his mind, urging him to sleep.

It didn’t work. 

She barely registered her failure before his hands closed around her neck. As the vice grip cut off her air, sheer terror drove her. She snatched her arms back and diverted her magic to his hands, desperately pulling them away from her neck. 

The pressure lifted from her throat, barely. 

But Vision fought back fiercely, fingers itching to crush.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she beheld the empty bloodlust in his. It was heart-wrenching to see his body used like this by another. She fervently hoped he wasn't awake to see this.

"Don't, Vis, please," she gasped. 

He didn't react to her plea, only renewed his struggle against her pull. 

Wanda let out an angry growl and pushed her magic against him with all her strength of will. They flew apart, each hitting the opposite wall. Wanda managed to twist to keep from hitting her head, but the wind knocked out of her as her back took the full force of impact.

Everything hurt. Her breathing came out in pitiful wheezes. She may have healed her stab wound superficially, but her body had not recovered from the shock and internal damage. She was too weakened to last much longer.

The dregs of adrenaline in her system helped her push past the pain. She stood just in time to see Vision phase back through the wall he'd gone through, looking none the worse for wear.

Wanda had one more idea. Before he could come any closer, she sent her magic arcing towards him, slashing between them like a scarlet oil slick. This time she went for the mindstone. From what she could sense, it had gone dormant.

She needed to wake it up.

She had no idea what she was doing. She just kept pouring her magic into the stone. She imagined jumpstarting a heart.

Vision closed the distance between them lightning fast. Distantly she felt him shove her back against the wall, gripping her upper arms hard enough to bruise. Her head smacked against the wall but she hung on to her will by a thread, exerting it upon the stone. Vision bared his teeth against the pain, breathing heavily through his nose. Her sight blurred, and she prayed to any god that would listen that this didn't destroy him. 

At last, she felt something. A spark. Something ignited. 

The stone glowed with its familiar yellow brilliance once more.

Vision shuddered. He dropped his hands and she slumped back against the wall. His eyes blinked at her like he was waking from a dream. Then they rolled back in his head as he collapsed at her feet.

She let out a sharp sob and fell to her knees beside him. She checked his pulse with trembling fingers. Please don't be gone, please, please, she repeated like a prayer.

His pulse beat strong. 

A shaky sigh of relief escaped her. 

She didn't catch the movement to her right until it was too late.

A foul-smelling cloth was thrust over her mouth and nose. 

Wanda knew no more.

> ✧ <

_when you love somebody_   
_bite your tongue, all you get is a mouthful of blood_

> ✧ <

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the world record for first fingerbang by a robot goooooes to Wandaaaa. get it grl!
> 
> no reciprocity required for feminist icon vision aaaaye (srry buddy)


	9. A Savored Deliverance

> ✧ <

_and i know, we ain't friends anymore_   
_if we walk down this road, we'll be lovers for sure_   
_so tonight, kiss me like it's do or die_   
_and take me to the other side_

> ✧ <

Vision woke to the sound of his name and a hand shaking his shoulder roughly. He was disoriented and sore. He'd slept on the floor for some reason. He wondered where Wanda-

Wanda!

His eyes shot open. He took in Natasha kneeling beside him, what was left of the second-floor landing lounge behind her. 

Wanda was gone.

"Vis, I need you to tell me what happened. Where's Wanda?" Natasha was asking. Her voice was tight with worry.

Vision struggled to sit up. The horrors of what happened returned to him all at once. 

He had only gained awareness of his actions for moments at a time. Each time the mind thief yanked him back under. But he saw enough to know what he had done. Whom he had hurt.

He stared at his hands, feeling ill. His heart pounded painfully. He had no idea how long he had been out. 

Wanda could be on the Raft already. 

His breaths came short and fast. His mind went blank.

"Vis, calm down. Breathe slowly," Natasha said, gripping his shoulder.

Vision did as he was told. He had never felt so out of control before.

Eventually Natasha talked him down. He couldn't offer much explanation. All he knew was that he had been brainwashed by someone or something and forced to attack Wanda.

Natasha looked troubled. "I heard rumors that Elektra had some magical powers. I never thought they were true."

"You think it was her?"

"Most likely. Someone of her caliber would never just give up on a job. And you're sure she didn't kill Wanda and stash the body somewhere?" Natasha asked the question without a tremor.

"I don't think so. The Secretary preferred that she be taken alive," he admitted. "And I would know. If she was dead."

He still felt the faintest tug of their mindstone connection. He had to believe that meant she was alive.

Natasha gave him a narrow-eyed look but didn't ask for elaboration.

"Alright, you sit tight. I'm going after her," she said as she began tapping rapidly on her phone screen. 

Vision rose to his feet. "No."

Her head swung up to look at him. "Vis, you're looking pretty rough and-"

"I have to find her."

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"I must," he reiterated. 

Before she could argue further, he took off through the ceiling, phasing clean through.

With access to most highly classified security intel, Vision had no problem locating the Raft. He knew without question that was where they were taking her. Like a cannon he hurled himself in the sky and speared in the direction of the watergoing fortress.

He remembered the look of fear in Wanda's eyes as she described her time there. She would never forgive him for putting her back there. The thought was agony.

She must have known he was being controlled. With her powers, she had to. 

Even so, could she forgive him? 

It didn't really matter. Whether or not he was in his right mind, it had been his hands on her with bruising force. Given his fragmented memory, he couldn't be sure if he had inflicted any serious injuries. If he had, he would never forgive himself.

It didn't take long to arrive at the Raft, currently located in the Atlantic Ocean to the northwest of the United Kingdom. Ordinarily the high-security prison kept to the deep ocean, only coming in close to shore during staff changes and supply runs. They must have moved it close in preparation for her capture. 

As Vision drew closer, he saw the giant structure was submerged beneath the cold dark waves. That would prove annoying. 

First things first. He needed to locate Wanda. 

He drew himself to an immediate stop directly above the prison. As he hovered, he drew up the facility's plans within his mental interface, analyzing them with inhuman speed. Then he hacked into their cameras to determine in which room Wanda was being kept.

She was still being processed in the medical facility. He saw her on screen from multiple angles. She lay on a gurney under sedation. Heavy metal cuffs encircled the entirety of both her hands. A collar encased her from the neck to nose.

Ice rage settled in his chest. Though she had described her experience to him, Vision had never seen images of Wanda from her first time under incarceration at the Raft. 

He realized that information may have been deliberately withheld from him. For he had foolishly believed she would be treated humanely, provided a room like at Avengers HQ. The only difference would be the floating-at-sea aspect.

He would have had her out of there in an instant if he had known they had muzzled her like a dog. 

He drew up several plans in his mind. Usually he dismissed the brute-force method out of hand, always aiming for more subtle, efficient solutions to problems. 

But he felt this situation called for a blunt approach.

Vision flew to the point he calculated to be directly above the lab in which Wanda was held. On a breath, he shifted his density, adjusting it so he would not float. As an afterthought, he dissolved his uniform's cape, which would only add resistance.

He dropped below the waves like an anchor.

Moments later, he phased through the ceiling of the medical bay. The lone technician hovering by Wanda squealed in shock. Sopping wet from the ocean, Vision guessed he must look like some terrifying being from the depths.

Vision quickly scanned Wanda, his chest tight with mingled misery and relief. She was sleeping peacefully. No visible injuries.

A door whooshed open behind him. Two guards rushed in, alerted by the tech's scream. They trained their guns on Vision, eyes hard.

Here goes, he thought.

"Do not be alarmed. There has been a grave mistake. I am here to rectify it."

Vision had only recently taken up the practice of lying. He had practiced this line the whole way out here, deciding it would be best to try to use some of her Avenger authority to avoid awkward questions. He hoped the ploy worked. 

The technician nodded rapidly, all too happy to stand down. But the guards were not so biddable.

"We haven't heard anything about that. By whose orders?" one asked. Both guns remained at the ready.

"The American Secretary of State." How did Natasha do this for a living? He could see all the holes in his own lies too easily to sound confident in them.

The guards did not buy it.

"Funny, since I heard he just called the warden to give his congratulations on the recapture."

Vision was not operating under his usual level of endless patience. He needed to deal with these guards now. 

Without warning, he shot off two swift laser blasts in rapid succession, melting their guns beyond use.

As they dropped their overheated guns and ran off, Vision swept towards Wanda, still oblivious to the commotion around her. Without the keys, he needed time and singular focus for the delicate laser work required to remove her restraints. He grimaced. They would have to stay on until they were well away from this place.

He almost forgot the cornerstone to his plan. Within his mental interface, he executed the script he had prepared earlier to hack into the Raft's navigation systems and initiate an emergency ascent.

An alarm sounded in the distance. The room lurched.

That done, Vision lifted Wanda into his arms, relishing the solid warmth of her body against his cold wet one. She remained deeply under. 

He looked up to find the medical technician staring, holding a syringe like a tiny sword. As their eyes met, the syringe clattered to the floor. 

Vision gave a gallant nod and departed from the room.

A rampage ensued. Carrying Wanda, Vision could not phase, so he had no choice but to non-lethally laser his way through the guards that came after him. 

At last he reached the aircraft landing pad, still shielded by heavy steel overhead. Just then he received word from his program that the Raft had made it to the surface. The massive steel doors came to life, sliding open to reveal chilly blue sky. 

Vision shot into the air, bearing Wanda away from the Raft.

En route to the closest populated landmass he could find, Vision notified Natasha of his success via the number she had given him.

 _Thank God. Here are the coordinates for the safe house you can take her to._ Drawing up the spot within his navigation app, he found the coordinates pointed to a modest cabin, nestled on a rocky coast of the emerald green Faroe Islands.

A few minutes later, she added, _I'll give you a day. Then I'm coming for her._

> ✧ <

Wanda awoke, stiff and groggy, in a room she didn't recognize. It was dark outside. Two doors, one presumably a bathroom and the other leading to the rest of the place. The room was simply decorated, with wood-paneled walls that lent it a cozy feel. The bed linens were so soft she felt she could melt into them.

She remembered fighting Vision. Freeing him from Elektra's hold. Then almost nothing but fragments, snatches of thought that her powers picked up on, even as she remained unconscious. The warden demanding she be kept sedated for another day. The medic who administered first aid on her few injuries, wondering at how unexpectedly young Wanda looked.

In the last fragment she caught Vision's intense relief and cool wrath as he freed her. 

He saved her. He'd gone so far as to break into the Raft to get her out. An action that probably broke dozens of the Accords' regulations.

She reached out for him with her psychic senses. She felt him waiting just beyond the door. He was trying to keep his mind carefully blank.

She needed to face him. To do what, she wasn't entirely sure. Thank him for saving her, yell at him for getting himself in trouble. Hold him to reassure herself that he was back to his normal self. 

Smelling the bile-raising scent of the antiseptic medical bay lingering on her skin, Wanda decided she first needed a shower.

The steaming shower, temperature set just shy of unbearably hot, felt perfect on Wanda's aching body. She stretched her limbs, assessing how she felt. Her neck felt the worst, though it only looked reddened. She could only assume the Raft's medical examination hadn't found anything wrong. Just the usual scrapes after a brutal fight.

Wanda ended the shower abruptly before she fell asleep standing up. She stepped out and had just wrapped a towel around herself when a knock sounded at the door.

Allowing herself a quick nervous gulp, she braced herself and opened the door.

Vision stood just outside. His eyes ran over her face, her neck, her collarbones.

"Are you well?" His voice came out in a croak, as far from his usual polished tones as could be.

"Yes, I'm ok. You couldn't even touch me," she replied with the weakest bravado. She could barely look at him. Too many emotions jostled her - relief, wariness, a keen awareness of her bare shoulders.

"May I see?"

He advanced a step, bringing himself so close she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. “Please,” he pleaded.

She had never seen him look so agonized. Maybe it would help him to see for himself that she had suffered no lasting damage.

Wanda moved to sit on the counter behind her and submitted to his inspection.

Vision held her right arm. At his touch, her whole body kindled to life, exhaustion dissipating like smoke. 

He guided her arm in slow movements, watching her face. She tried to maintain a solemn expression. It was unexpectedly difficult. Any soreness she felt was accompanied by shivery pleasure at his light touch. 

This morning his touch meant certain death. Now it brought her to life, lighting up her insides with lust.

She tried to tamp down her reaction. Things were too fragile between them right now. Vis was her friend. Yeah, they'd messed around the night before and things got a little complicated. But then he almost killed her and things were now a lot more complicated. She shouldn't start anything with him.

But everything about the situation was turning her on. 

His gentle handling of her, bringing back memories of his tentative touch the night before. Her breasts barely covered, the lingering warmth of the shower steam contrasting with the cold counter against her bare legs. She could almost feel the heat of his fixated gaze. 

Wanda focused on keeping her breaths even.

Vision looked grim, apparently unaware of her inner tension. He took her other arm and gave it the same inspection, saying nothing. She stayed silent, wanting this moment to be over and also wanting to live in it forever.

At length he looked up. He raised his hand towards her face and she briefly imagined him pulling her in for a kiss. She willed him to do it.

Instead, he swept back the clinging strands of her wet hair to reveal her neck. She held her breath as he studied the work of his own hands. He looked transfixed and faintly ill. Tilting her chin up with two fingers, he guided her head to the side. 

This time she couldn’t repress a sharp intake of breath. He snatched his hands back and stared at them.

She felt the roiling emotions pent up within him. She had to say something to ease the pressure off this volatile moment. 

“What happened back there?”

Vision stayed close but withdrew his hands, folding them before his chest. 

“Elektra. She caught me off-guard. She took control of my mind.” He frowned at the floor. “I do not remember much.”

Wanda could tell as much from the desultory bits of memory floating to the surface like debris after a storm.

“I could kill her for what she did to you.” Her admission came out along a surge of protective rage. The assassin had violated him. Wanda hated her for it.

“I should have been more alert. I should have kept better track of her.”

She skimmed her hand along his upper arm. “Don’t blame yourself.”

He couldn't look at her. “I remember how it felt, strangling you. I wanted to stop. But my body did not obey.” His voice was raw. 

An image flashed in her mind’s eye, her own pale face shining with sweat and tears, struggling to breathe, red hands cinched around her neck. It seared Vision's mind. It recalled her own memory of the same moment, the cold focus that washed over her to keep the terror at bay. It had saved her. She shuddered, dispelling the thoughts.

Vision saw her reaction. His face fell. 

“I’m so sorry, Wanda. I will never forgive myself for laying a hand on you,” The pain in his broken voice tore at her, filling her with fierce tenderness. She reached up and brought his face down to hers.

“Vis, it wasn't you. Elektra did this." Her voice softened. "I’m alive. We’re both alive. That’s all that matters.”

His face was so close she could see the fine lines around his eyes. They creased with worry, tightening his usually placid face. She couldn't erase what he'd done. Just as she could never take back the moment she turned against him at HQ, setting them on branching paths. 

But they could forget about it for a time and focus on more important things.

She tilted her head forward, ever so slowly, and took his lips like taking a breath.

Vision met her at the exact same time, as if the same capitulation had just taken place within him.

His lips were as soft and warm and tasting vaguely of mint as she remembered from that stolen kiss at the museum. The kiss she couldn't stop thinking about since, no matter how many times she tried to suppress it. The kiss she had reimagined as he fervently touched her that night in the terrace house.

The kiss awakened her, setting alight an ache that burned through her body. She was already impatient to share something wilder. Without thinking she twined her hands around his neck and sucked on his lower lip, coaxing it open enough for her tongue to dart through.

Vision was instantly affected, his breath going short and quick. He braced his hands on either side of her and pressed his chest into hers. She encircled his waist with her legs, crossing her ankles behind him. 

The tentative exploration was over - now they crashed together like a wave. Desperate to be closer. She moaned as he gave as good as he got, sliding his tongue against hers. She clung to his neck. She couldn't believe how much she wanted him.

He broke their kiss and said, “Wanda.” She captured his mouth again, hungry for him. The room echoed with their wet, breathless sounds, before he broke off once more. 

“Wanda.” 

"What?" She finally replied, impatience making her short. She didn't want him to use those perfect lips for talking right now.

"Do you want to do this?" The precious man couldn't even bring himself to say the words. But she knew what he was asking.

"Yes." She needed him. He needed her. It could be that simple. For tonight.

Everything else she'd deal with in the morning.

He looked stunned. "You're sure?" 

She kissed him again, giving his lower lip a playful nip before pulling back. Vision leaned forward helplessly before catching himself. She smiled shyly.

"Take me to the bed, Vis."

> ✧ <

At the invitation plucked straight from his dreams, at the curve of her mouth as she spoke the words, Vision knew he would follow Wanda anywhere to whatever end. 

This woman held him in her sway like no one else in this world. 

Against all odds, she wanted him. Against all odds, even after he had been turned against her, she allowed him to kiss her and hold her as he'd needed to since he woke up from that brainwashed nightmare.

He lifted her from the counter and made for the bed. The feeling of holding her like this in his arms felt familiar. But everything was different. He was keenly aware of his upper arm pressing against the backs of her thighs, separated by only a layer of fabric. She looped her arms around his neck and nuzzled him. But the full sensation of that touch was thwarted by the soft button-down flannel he wore, found in the house's supply cache. 

Never had he wanted to rip off an item of clothing so badly.

He laid her upon the bed. In a quick movement she removed her towel, bringing up her knees to block the view of her chest. Behind the tempting sight of her long legs, he saw her blushing face take on a mischievous glint. 

"You too. Step one, get naked."

Vision obeyed instantly, bringing his hands up to the shirt's top button. At the sight of his red fingers, he realized with a jolt that he was still in his true form. He made to to shift into his human form, assuming it to be more appealing to Wanda. 

But Wanda sensed his intent and interrupted him.

“No, don't. I missed you like this,” she said. 

"Truly?" He was shocked that she didn't find his appearance too outlandish to desire. True, she'd let him touch her the night before. But it had been dark.

Now she looked at him by the light of the bedside lamp like he was a particularly delectable pastry.

"Truly. Now come here. You're taking too long," she ordered.

His penis twitched at the command in her low voice. He would never understand why his body liked everything she did. He just accepted it.

Vision stepped to the side of the bed and Wanda lifted herself into a kneeling position before him. As she made short work of his buttons, he turned off his usual retinal displays and drank in the unadulterated sight of her in the soft light. 

Scant tiny freckles on the tops of her shoulders that he had never noticed before. Glimpses of her breasts peeking through strands of her drying hair. The smooth plane of her taut stomach. 

She was so close he could just reach out and touch her. He wanted to grip her waist in his hands. He still didn't know if he should.

She was so beautiful. He couldn't believe she was letting him see her like this. Was she right to trust him with this? He had exactly one experience giving pleasure and only a theoretical understanding of sex. His stomach roiled with excitement and nerves.

Never had he felt so ill-prepared for a situation. He could only hope some primal instincts kicked in soon. 

Wanda appeared utterly oblivious to his concerns. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and slid her hands up his newly freed chest. Vision sucked in a breath at the sensation of her fingers dragging against his skin. She swept her hands up and along his collarbones and pushed the shirt over his shoulders. On cue, he pulled the garment off completely and threw it away.

Wanda pressed flush against him then, pulling his head down for a kiss. He lost himself in the sensations of her lips and mouth against his. Of their own accord his hands acted, tilting her jaw just so, hitting some perfect angle that made his witch moan into the kiss. The sound delighted him. Then she sucked on his lower lip and grabbed his buttocks and it was his turn to groan helplessly. 

She drew back, breathing hard. She moved to lay back on the bed cushions. She nodded towards his still-clothed lower half.

"Off with those," she said, her voice laced with power. 

Vision obeyed, stripping down to nothing. Her eyes took him in, one hand stroking along her own collarbone. Then she reached both hands towards her neck and tucked her hair behind her.

They were naked before each other. 

His heart pounded so hard he almost couldn't breathe. He wanted her so much. Yet he froze. He didn't want to ruin this. But he had no idea what he was doing. Nothing, not even his furtive forays into porn, had prepared him to know the perfect way to seduce this wondrous woman.

"Vis." This time, her voice held the tiniest hint of nervousness. 

She was scared too. Only better at hiding behind a projected confidence. 

Her fears were unfounded, of course. All he needed to do was show her how irresistible she was.

Vision dropped to the bed and crawled to Wanda. 

As he lay beside her, they kissed again. Everything began to feel right again. Then she pressed his hands to her breasts and he could think of nothing else but their soft texture, their satisfying weight and curve. Touching them felt even better than he'd fantasized. He loved the sounds she made as he stroked his thumbs along the curves. As he slowly circled closer to the center, her breathing hitched.

 _Pinch it_ , came a whispered order in his mind. He did as she asked and was rewarded with a growling moan. She deepened the kiss as he continued to tease her breasts, by turns kneading them, then flicking their taut nipples. 

Then he had a brilliant idea.

He moved his head down to her breast and licked one nipple. She cried out at that. The note of need spurred him. While his tongue circled and sucked one breast, his fingers stroked the other. Wanda keened and wriggled. His penis throbbed at the sound of her pleasure.

Then she reached her own hand down and grabbed hold of that painfully aching part of him. He felt the sure touch throughout his entire body. His lips crushed hers in response, trying to translate the ecstasy of her touch through his hungry kiss. He reached a hand to touch her sex, finding it deliciously wet.

A wild abandon took hold of them. Legs tangled, they stroked each other. They kissed until they gasped for air, only to go back under a moment later. Vision felt ready to orgasm any moment. But Wanda's movements were frustratingly measured. He stubbornly matched her pace, even as she moved her hips faster against his fingers.

“You want to fuck me?” Wanda asked, her hot breath tickling his ear.

“Yes,” he bit out. More than anything he had ever wanted.

“Say it.”

“I want to fuck you, Wanda. Right now, in this bed. Like I've wanted to since I first met you.” 

> ✧ <

Vision's confession almost took Wanda over the edge. She rewarded his eloquence with a deep kiss. 

She pressed him back and moved to straddle him. She couldn't keep her hands from stroking along his broad crimson chest, or tweaking his tight burgundy nipples playfully. He made a guttural sound at her teasing unlike anything she had ever heard from him. 

All his earlier hesitation gone, he took hold of her hips to hold her steady and pressed his straining cock against her sex. She met him, the pressure building exquisitely. Her eyes closed at the sweet agony of her clit brushing against his hard length.

When she couldn't resist any longer, she lifted her hips and guided his cock within her, inch by inch. He hissed through his teeth. She could think only one thing.

_Fuck, Vis. You're perfect._

He leaned up to kiss her gently, indicating he'd heard. She settled him within her and let out a sigh of pure delight. Then as one, they began to move.

The first few thrusts were slow. But they couldn't maintain the steady pace for long. Animal need drove them now. They chased the feeling of friction as they slid against each other. His hands gripped her ass and he used the leverage to speed up his thrusts. 

Each stroke elicited a breathy "yes" from her.

Wanda was so close. She kissed Vision desperately. The sensations of his hot wet mouth, his powerful thrusts, his firm body pressed flush with hers all worked in tandem to push her over the edge. 

Pleasure erupted inside her, making her cry out. He joined her a moment later, repeating her name hoarsely as he pumped into her. They clung to each other, riding the waves of each other's climaxes. 

When the powerful feeling faded into gentle ripples, Wanda flopped down beside him, blinking up at the ceiling.

She just had mind-blowing sex with her best-friend-turned-enemy-turned-something-else, who was also Earth's only avenging android.

It was wild. And nothing had ever felt so perfect.

After lying there for several stunned minutes, Wanda shifted to rest her cheek on Vision's shoulder. Her hand came up to rest on his chest, fingers curled against his beating heart. He watched her out of the corner of his eye.

“So how did you like that?” she teased.

He turned contemplative for a second, as if seriously weighing her question.

“Insufficient data. Must rerun query,” he replied with a playful grin, whisking her into his arms. Her surprised laugh was cut off as he soundly kissed her.

> ✧ <

Hours later, as Wanda lay with her face resting on his chest, her breath evened out in sleep, Vision marveled at the strange combination of pride and gratitude he felt. Though his body was sated and sleepy, his mind still thrummed with excitement at what he'd just experienced. His brain had stopped working at some point and it was as wondrous as it was alarming.

Vision stroked Wanda's hair behind her ear. He supposed this was it. This was what humans called love. There could be no other name for the unfathomable feeling that rose within him as he looked down on her exhausted yet peaceful face. 

He wanted so many things from her, for her. He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to protect her, to make her feel safe enough to sleep like this, unguarded, dreamless, always. He realized, with the same ironclad certainty that the sky was blue and the earth revolved around the sun, that every breath Wanda took was precious to him.

He'd been an utter fool to let her go. He could never do it again.

Maybe they could make this work. They would talk in the morning. He would convince her to stay with him. He would run with her if that was what she wanted. 

Anything to stay together. 

Vision tried to plan what to say to her, but his thoughts kept slipping away as his fatigue caught up with him. At last he shifted to tuck her before him, nestled his head against her shoulder, and slept.

> ✧ <

_and he told me that i'd done alright_   
_and kissed me 'til the mornin' light, the mornin' light_   
_you are my sweetest downfall_   
_i loved you first, i loved you first_

> ✧ <

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the immortal words of one of my fave podcasts, it's ON (TM).
> 
> vis is the sexiest virgin alive, i'll die on this hill


	10. A Blue Sea

> ✧ <

_always thought i was hard to love_   
_'til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy_

> ✧ <

Wanda woke up to delicious warmth.

It was still dark, just before dawn she guessed. She closed her eyes again, luxuriating in the feeling of being held. They fit together like puzzle pieces. She felt Vision’s firm chest at her back, his arm slung about her waist, his even breaths at the nape of her neck. 

For a few moments, she listened to those soft snores. Her heart brimmed with fondness. She wanted to stay like this forever.

She dozed. Idle musings flitted about her mind. Maybe they could go get breakfast. If there was anything nearby. She still had no idea exactly where they were. 

Didn't matter. They could just spend the rest of the day in bed. She twisted her legs together, excited by the prospect. 

Her phone buzzed, the one that Vision had been prescient enough to hold on to for her. She opened her eyes, suddenly tense.

Instinctively she knew. Nat was here for her.

With that, reality came crashing in, blasting away her sleepy imaginings. This strange liminal time with Vision was at an end. However much she wished, nothing had changed about their circumstances. She was still on the run from the law. And after nearly ending up imprisoned on the Raft for a second time, she needed to disappear for a while.

For a foolhardy moment, Wanda entertained the idea of running away with him. They were two of the most powerful beings on the planet; they could escape it all if they tried. 

Just as quickly she dismissed the notion. How could she ask him to abandon his duty as Earth's protector? He would probably follow her if she asked. But he was meant to be the suit of armor around the world. Even she could not be selfish enough to steal him away for herself.

She'd already fucked up her own chance to be a hero. She refused to drag Vision down with her.

Grabbing the phone, she found exactly what she'd dreaded: a text with pickup instructions. She needed to leave now if she was to make it in time. 

Still, Wanda lay in bed a few moments longer, trying to save the memory in exact detail. Her contentment drained away like sand slipping through her fingers.

She slid from the bed, careful not to wake Vision. He slept on, looking utterly peaceful.

Wanda washed her face. She had nothing to pack. She scrounged for some food in the small kitchen. For some reason the tasteless protein bar nearly brought her to tears. 

She was tired.

Wanda couldn't resist one last look before she left. Pale morning light shown upon the comforter shoved down to the foot of the bed. She took in Vision's long muscled legs twined in the sheets, his ruby profile against the white pillow. He looked content in a way she had never seen him.

Her heart refused to give up its simple truth. She wanted to stay with him.

Wanda knelt by the bed, gazing down at Vision’s sleeping face. No longer strange to behold, he looked gorgeous in a way that made her twinge with longing. She couldn’t resist stroking his cheek one more time. 

Vision's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her with that guileless smile. It cut her to the quick. 

Somehow, she made him happy. 

Her throat tightened at what she had to do.

She leaned down, giving him a final kiss. She put all her yearning and gratitude in it. Then she rested a glowing hand against his cheek and returned him to sleep. 

Her bottom lip trembled once. She bit down hard.

Before her resolve could weaken any further, she fled.

> ✧ <

Vision woke up in an empty sunlit bed. Even before he could bring himself to open his eyes, he knew Wanda was gone. He couldn’t hear the rise and fall of her breath that had lulled him to sleep. Nor the sound of quiet shuffling in the other room.

She left him. He wished he knew why. 

His phone buzzed somewhere in the room. He did not get up to answer it.

He allowed himself the indulgence of lying in bed for an entire hour. At first he tried and failed to stop recalling the night before. But unprompted the memories replayed over and over. The echo of pleasure made the ache in his chest worse.

So this was heartbreak, he thought in a detached manner.

How might this morning have gone if she had stayed? He imagined what her sleeping face would have looked like, lit by the first rays of the sun. How he might have kissed her awake and made love to her with all the slow gentleness they lacked last night. They could have taken the whole day for themselves, as if they were simply new lovers, not an outlaw and an Avenger, not two friends with a hopelessly complicated past.

But none of that could happen. Wanda was gone. 

He thought they would at least get the chance to talk. She didn't even give him the chance to say goodbye.

Quiet despair gave way to rationalization. Of course she had to flee, after yesterday's fiasco. They were both definitely in trouble for what he'd done. 

Wanda had known all along it would turn out like this. She had tried to cut things off before they went too far. 

Vision still didn't quite understand how the barriers finally came down last night. He couldn't even explain his own boldness. After he attacked her, he should have given her space. But he found he couldn't stay away from her. He needed the assurance of her body, safe under his touch. He needed her forgiveness. 

He had been shocked to learn that she craved the same comfort.

No matter the pain he felt now, he couldn't regret last night. It was a gift he would treasure always.

Vision continued to stare at the ceiling and ignore his phone, which had been vibrating every few minutes for the past hour. He couldn’t bring himself to face Tony right now.

Wanda had said she wouldn't make him choose her over the world. So she made the decision for him. Now it was time to go back. He got his time away from the relentless responsibilities of an Avenger. He didn't realize until now how good it felt to let down that burden, even for a brief time. 

But now he needed to shoulder the globe once more.

The morning sun had disappeared behind clouds by the time he finally forced himself out of bed. As he mechanically collected the items of clothing sprawled haphazardly about the bed, he finally took the phone from a pants pocket.

“Mr. Stark.”

"Vis, it's time to come home. We need to talk." Tony knew everything. Vision could tell from the exhaustion in his voice.

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Vision took one last look at the bed, the haven he and Wanda had claimed for themselves, if only for a night. Sorrow threatened to drag him back down to it. 

He phased outside and took off into the sky, hoping the cold skies might numb him. 

> ✧ <

"Um, so, I fucked Vis." 

Wanda's blurted confession sounded too loud in the quiet cockpit of the Wakandan aircraft. From the pilot's seat, Nat glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.

Wanda didn’t know if the master spy was deliberately using a classic interrogation tactic. But if that was the intent behind Nat's silent treatment, Wanda proved an easy mark, breaking after only 15 minutes of quiet.

"Huh." Nat took a moment to process the statement. "Didn't really know he was into that. Leave it to Stark to build an android with a sex drive." 

Wanda covered her face with her hands, repressing a rising giggle. "Oh my God, you're worse than Clint sometimes."

"Don't compare me to him." Nat flipped a couple switches on the dashboard. All too casually she asked, "So tell me what happened."

It all came spilling out of Wanda, from the first moment she saw Vision again in the alley to their team-up to her return to the Raft. How her feelings slowly, subtly changed. She was ordinarily not the most effusive storyteller, and she couldn't even look at Nat as she spoke, but she felt compelled to explain everything. 

She needed to tell the whole story, if only to defend her choice to leave him this morning.

"And I just left. After he broke into the Raft to save me. After his first time. I didn't even say goodbye. Am I a monster?" She sighed heavily. "This is why I wanted to avoid this."

"You're not a monster. You're just a kid, trying to survive."

"Doesn't make me any less terrible."

Nat nodded solemnly. “Trust me, I know this is hard. It’s not going to stop being hard.” Nat’s voice was carefully neutral, but Wanda knew she was thinking of Bruce, gone over a year now. 

“But you made the right choice. You’re just not safe out there, not while you have a target on your back,” Nat said, looking over with a sympathetic expression. 

“It's too risky. Even if Vis stepped in to save you again, it would only turn everyone against him. They'd just lock him up along with you. After what happened with Ultron, I'm sure Tony has a contingency plan for Vis going rogue,” Nat concluded with perfect rationality.

Wanda nodded, mollified to have her decision validated. She was doing the adult thing, taking herself out of the picture so Vis could go on playing the shining hero everyone needed. Unsullied by a relationship with an erratic witch, the version of herself that the world would always see first. 

This was the only way.

Still, a small part of her wished someone would talk her out of it.

As they set down in Wakanda, Nat surprised her by lugging a guitar case from the cargo bay.

“Swung by HQ to pick this up. Almost didn't find it. It was in Vision's room,” Nat explained. The last detail made Wanda's heart ached.

Wanda took the case, running her hand along the familiar worn leather. She drew comfort from its solidity.

“I thought I’d never see this again.” Wanda had bought the old guitar from a vintage shop with her first Avenger paycheck and had practiced playing as often as she could, up until her hurried departure from headquarters. She had given up any hope of returning for it, when any guard would arrest her on sight. 

“How did you even get it back?” 

“Sneakily.”

Wanda snorted.

“What can I say, I’m the best in the biz,” said the former spy, with a nonchalant shrug.

Wanda shook her head. “Still a lot of trouble to go to for an old guitar.”

Nat’s expression turned kind. “Thought it might make this place feel a little bit more like home.” She inclined her head at the instrument, now clutched tightly in Wanda’s hands. “So you won't be so inclined to run off on a mission and get yourself attacked by the world's deadliest assassin.” 

Tone turned businesslike, Nat said, “Now get that to your room and meet me in half an hour for dinner. Everybody’s missed you!”

> ✧ <

Over the next week Wanda settled back into life in Wakanda. She got the last of her injuries treated in Shuri's lab. She dove back into training, working at it for hours everyday. She had dinners with the team and, listening to their easy banter, it was like she never left.

For all her efforts to keep busy, Vision was never far from her thoughts. She tried to tell herself there was no point torturing herself, imagining him all forlorn and heartbroken by her departure. It was for the best. She had made the right decision.

But it still hurt. Far worse than Wanda expected. After her brother’s death, she thought she would never experience such closeness with another person again. She actively resisted it, for fear of experiencing so devastating a loss again. But despite every wall she threw up in defense, Vision had stolen in and hooked into her heart. 

Now she felt his absence like a piercing tug on the line.

She missed the easy peace she felt with Vision. All those little shared domestic moments that made her feel cozily ordinary: mornings on the terrace, walks to the park, movie nights on the couch. She missed introducing him to food and all the other mundanities of human existence which he studied with amusing scrutiny. In satiating his endless curiosity, she began to reexamine the world, opening herself back up to its small delights. 

She pictured him often, plucking images from her memories like sifting through an old box of photos. The way he looked flying beside her in the night sky. The way he looked at the gala, towering and sleek and powerful. The way he looked beneath her, all that tight control unleashed.

The worst of it was how much her body craved his. Nightmares no longer plagued her. Instead, night after night, Wanda lay awake, sheets twisted around her, lost in fantasies of him. In fevered delirium she touched herself. But it wasn’t enough anymore.

She’d only gotten a taste of him. It left her wanting to devour him.

On those sleepless nights, Wanda took her guitar out to her room’s balcony. 

She spent hours trying to remember a particular song her father used to play for her mother. They called it their song. Her father liked to play bars of it to perk her mother up from a sad mood. She could picture one lazy afternoon, as she and Pietro played quietly on the rug, as her mother looked on with a smile and misty eyes, her father played the song all the way through, pouring love into every word. 

So Wanda played and played, chasing the memory until her fingers stopped shaking and grew sure. She sang the words barely above a whisper.

_All these places had their moments_   
_With lovers and friends I still can recall_   
_Some are dead and some are living_   
_In my life I’ve loved them all_

_But of all these friends and lovers_   
_There is no one compares with you_

The playing was the only thing that soothed her. Someday, she thought to herself, the hurt won't cut so sharply, so frequently. Remember, it just takes time.

> ✧ <

“Vision,” Stark began, “We need to talk about Wanda.”

Vision didn’t respond but his hands set down the half-full watering can next to the calathea he had just finished caring for.

They stood in Tony’s lab at Avengers’ headquarters. For once, the genius wasn’t fussing with instruments as they spoke. His attention was focused on Vision. 

Vision felt rather discomfited by the clear-eyed gaze Stark directed at him.

This conversation had been waiting to happen since Vision had arrived back in the States. Yet Vision still felt unprepared for it. That Stark thought it serious enough to drive all the way up to speak in person was foreboding. Vision supposed he had crossed a rather important line when he broke into the Raft.

He didn't care about any of that. He just wanted his creator to understand what had happened to him.

“Alright, here goes. Lecture time.” Tony rubbed his forehead. “Look, everything was working fine while they laid low. Easy enough to let their case fall between the cracks as we dealt with more important shit. But then you had to interfere with a covert operation and free her from the highest security prison on the goddamn planet." He gestured with emphasis.

"Now the Secretary is livid. You helped Maximoff escape _and_ we haven’t made any progress on finding the rest of the gang. He is this close to ordering me to power you down." He blinked at Vision's sudden tension. "Which I won't do, obviously. I'm trying to talk him down. But the only way he'll let it slide is if we make tracking the old crew our top priority. He wants Wanda back on the Raft immediately.”

“I won't do it, Mr. Stark,” Vision replied, his tone clipped.

"I know." The dark-haired man smiled. "Just wanted you to be prepped for when he arrives in the next hour or so. We're going to have to negotiate, hard."

Vision nodded, inwardly pleased by the man's use of "we". He didn't relish the thought of going up against the Secretary alone.

"Got distracted again, huh?" Stark asked. Vision blinked, a little shocked by what the emotionally repressed man seemed to intuit. 

The question felt awkward. Vision wondered idly if the squirming discomfort he felt was the same as what many humans felt when discussing anything remotely related to sex with their parents.

"Yes. It's bad now. It interferes with my thinking throughout the day. Thoughts of her, that is."

"Uh oh. You've got it bad, Romeo."

"I think I love her," Vision blurted.

Stark stroked his goatee. He looked genuinely taken aback.

"Well, I definitely didn't know that could happen."

Vision did not express his negative emotions as a rule, but he couldn't help glaring at his flippant creator.

Stark's eyes crinkled with an apologetic twist of his brows. "Sorry, sorry! I physically cannot not deflect through humor. I'm shit at this stuff." 

"I don't know what to do. She left. She wants me to continue playing my role, I think. I know I should. I'm just not sure that I can, after everything. But if that's what she wants..." he trailed off. The argument had been rolling around and around his mind all day.

"But, Vis, what do you want?" 

Vision blinked. "I do not know."

"Well, take it from me. Sometimes you just have to quit trying to please everyone and do whatever the hell you want."

Vision mulled over the unexpectedly sincere advice.

Not one to leave a silence unfilled, Stark moved on, fleeing the emotionally fraught territory he'd inadvertently waltzed into. "So, off the record, do you know where they are?" 

Vision thought he detected a note of thinly disguised hope behind the question. He realized his creator missed them too, despite the man's stubborn pride.

"No."

"Top-secret hideout locations didn't come up over brunch?"

An image of Wanda, sitting across from him, unabashedly enjoying a croissant, flashed in Vision’s mind. He dismissed it. Those memories popped up constantly. They only made him feel worse. 

“No.” It was the truth. Wanda, for all the ways she’d let her guard down with him, had still been careful to never reveal where she’d come from. 

However, he did have an informed guess now. One he would not be sharing with anyone.

Tony seemed to pick up on his mood. He threw up his hands.

“Alright, Noah Calhoun, I’ll leave you to your brooding. Secretary will be here in an hour, like I said.” 

After a quick internal search for yet another reference he didn't understand, Vision decided The Notebook was exactly the right movie to represent his current mental state.

Before he left the room, Tony stopped and gripped Vision’s shoulder. 

“You’ll be alright, bud,” Tony murmured with uncharacteristic gentleness. 

Vision glanced at Tony, grateful for the small contact. Then he shrugged out of his creator’s grip and returned to watering the lab's dying plants.

> ✧ <

The Secretary arrived an hour late, bristling with self-righteousness. He ordered Vision and Stark into the conference room, the same one where, a year ago, he lay down the Accords before the Avengers. The place where Vision had made that empty promise to Wanda.

“You're lucky I don't have you arrested this second for what you did. As it stands, there is only way I'll be able to look the other way on this. You’ve got a new mission.” The Secretary’s white mustache twitched when he spoke.

Vision’s stomach lurched, knowing what was coming.

“You’re to track down Maximoff and bring her in. The others too. I don’t care if she bewitches you again, you bring her in together. She is a dangerous individual who needs to be in custody. They all are.”

Vision strove to keep his expression calm. Nothing he could say would convince the man to let go of his distrust; it was too deeply rooted in fear. 

“Why not target Klaue? He was the one we were after, before your goon disrupted our investigation. He poses a far greater threat to those around him.”

The Secretary waved a hand, dismissing the notion outright. “He’s just one man. We’ve already got a team on him and it’s only a matter of time before they nab him.” He turned his hard gaze back to Vision. “Only you can take on an enhanced like Maximoff.”

Vision barely kept his lip from curling. He realized he deeply resented this man. Perhaps even hated him. He marveled inwardly at the new emotion.

“Wanda has done nothing to harm anyone. Our resources are better spent going after real threats, not hypothetical ones.”

“I don’t care! She still hasn’t answered for her crimes in Lagos! The people can’t trust the Avengers until people like her are held in check.”

“Did the Council issue this order?” There was no way. The Accords Council, tangled up in its own bureaucracy, issued resolutions only after months of debate.

“I speak with the authority of the Council. Consider this an executive order.”

Vision stunned himself by saying, “And if I refuse?”

The Secretary’s eyes widened. He’d only seen Vision as Tony’s tool. Vision could tell the man was thrown by this display of disobedience.

The old man jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t think I don’t have a contingency for you too. No way would I be letting you run around if Stark hadn’t provided some rock-solid insurance in the event you go bad,” the Secretary retorted coldly.

Stark chose that moment to pipe in, "You know, I might have been overselling when we discussed that initially."

His arrogant remark galvanized Vision. He had had enough. Why was he letting this small-minded man threaten him? He didn't want what was best for the world. He was just playing his own political game.

"Do your colleagues know you authorized the payment, with taxpayer dollars, to a notorious assassin wanted in twenty countries?"

The Secretary snarled, "What?"

"Do they know about the other flagrant abuses of your position? That taxpayer dollars have also paid for the homes of your mistresses in Cancun and Paris?"

"How do you know about that?" The man suddenly went pale.

"I have access to all the data I could possibly want. And the intelligence to decipher its meaning. So suffice to say, I know your secrets. And in seconds I can pull up the evidence to prove it." Vision's tone was ice cold.

Even Tony looked at little daunted by this revelation.

"So here is how things will go. You will cease to interfere in Avenger business. I will continue to play my role as Earth's defender. And you will leave Wanda Maximoff alone," Vision stated, fixing the Secretary with a glare.

"Now I am leaving for two weeks. I will be back. But until then, do not try to find me."

With that impulsive declaration, Vision left the two men behind, one looking furious, the other decidedly impressed.

> ✧ <

He entered and paused dramatically. She kept her face blank, though he couldn’t contain the news in his thoughts.

“They made donuts for breakfast,” she said at the same time that he exclaimed, “They've got donuts for breakfast!”

“Should’ve known I couldn’t surprise you,” he went on, flourishing the cardboard box with a grin. She snatched up a glazed chocolate.

They made their way over to Shuri's lab, Wanda chomping down on her donut as they walked. After she had licked her fingers clean of icing, the silence stretched between them.

“Something on your mind?” Steve asked.

As it happened Wanda was lost in a reverie thinking about the perfect curvature of Vision's ass.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. 

Thankfully, he didn’t pry. Steve well understood that sometimes one had to wrestle with one’s problems alone. After all, no one else in this world could really understand the experience of waking up in a whole new time. 

Except for Bucky, that is.

They continued on in companionable silence until they reached the lab where Bucky lay sleeping in cryogenic stasis. Visiting the frozen man was one of her new daily errands, as she sought to make herself feel busy and useful. 

Wanda pulled up a chair in front of Bucky’s tank and sat. Steve settled to wait nearby, watching his friend with that same sad look in his eyes. 

Wanda barely took in the pale face before closing her eyes and plunging into his mind.

While the super-soldier was on ice, Wanda had taken to sifting through his memories in search of something, anything, that might assist Shuri’s trials to reverse his brainwashing.

She delved deep, trying to find the place where she had left off last time. Sometime soon after his capture by HYDRA, in a dark lab, strapped to a table. 

Typically when she read people, she could stick to the shallows and pick out strong impressions from there. With Bucky, she needed to inhabit his memories more deeply, almost reliving them, since what she searched for was not something he would have been conscious of himself. The experience exhausted her quickly, both mentally and emotionally, so she could only look into a few memories at a time.

Today’s session proved as fruitless as the last few days. 

For what felt like hours, she bore witness to the torture that broke him down in preparation for the programming - thankfully she couldn't actually feel the same sensations. Still, listening to his terrorized mind, she shuddered at the fate she’d escaped. 

During her time with HYDRA, the scientists had conducted experiments on her to better understand her abilities. But there had always been a healthy sense of fear that kept them from pushing her too far or harming her. 

Bucky had been defenseless, and an enemy, so there had been no mercy. His screams echoed in her ears as she came back to herself. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Find anything?” Steve asked the moment she opened her eyes. She shook her head. That despondent look lingered on his face.

“I might be close though.” Another day, and she might get lucky and hear the sequence with which they had indoctrinated him.

Though she knew Bucky couldn’t even dream in this state, she dove back in to seize an early memory and pull it to the surface: a moment from a happier, simpler time, at a fair in Brooklyn. 

They left soon after. Steve stopped halfway across the elevated walkway and went to lean over the railing. Maglev trains pulsed far below them.

“Thanks for tryin’ your best in there, kid. I know it's tough on you. But I really think you can do it.”

She hummed in acknowledgment.

“I can’t regret it, you know. Not really.”

“What?” She was confused by the abrupt turn of his thoughts towards the events of a year ago.

“Turning my back on the Accords and Tony. I’d do it all over again, to save Bucky.”

“You fucked things up for a lot of people though.” Wanda wasn’t trying to be cruel. Just honest.

He turned to her. “I know. That part I am sorry for. I would change it if I could.” He looked out again. “You really care about Vision, don’t you?”

She felt a blush coming on. Nat must have mentioned what had happened. Why did it feel so weird to talk about this with Steve? It was as awkward as trying to tell Pietro about boys she liked. 

“I do.”

“Then go after him.”

“What?”

“I mean it. The people we love are the most important thing. You don't find them often - the ones who truly see you. So hold on to them. Move heaven and earth if you have to.” His voice grew distant. “I made that mistake once, with a woman I loved. But I got a second chance with Buck.”

“But, Steve, it can’t work. Everything’s too complicated. We’re basically star-crossed.” She couldn't bring herself to say lovers. She didn't even know what they were.

It just felt foolish to risk her freedom, her life, for a feeling she was too scared to even call love.

“That’s just an excuse, Wanda.”

Her temper suddenly flared. “Easy for you to say now, when you’re the reason for these circumstances,” she snapped.

He rubbed the back of his head, a little sheepish. “Okay, I deserved that. But, Wanda, you’re the most powerful person I’ve ever seen. All you need to do is trust yourself enough to know what you want and go after it. After that, you’re unstoppable.”

She stared at him, eyebrows raised. Was he actually urging her to start an illicit affair and fuck all the consequences?

“This is your weirdest pep talk yet.”

He grinned with a boyish charm that belied the old man’s wisdom. “Maybe I’m feeling a little guilty. But, really, I just think you deserve to be happy.” 

She blinked. Maybe it really could be that simple.

> ✧ <

It was another sleepless night for Wanda. At this point she knew when it was time to give up the fight for oblivion. So she slung on a hoodie, picked up her guitar, and slunk out to her balcony.

It was a beautiful night. The air was blissfully cool after the heat of the day. The city gleamed in the distance. The moon hung full in the sky, attended by a smattering of stars.

Wanda strummed half-heartedly. Her guitar was slightly out of tune but she couldn’t bring herself to deal with it. She soon gave up and just looked at the sky.

She basked in her loneliness. Here she was, awake while the rest of the world slept or partied. It was the perfect time for a long, meandering conversation with someone close. It was only in the middle of the night that she could ever talk to Pietro without his armor of bravado. They talked about everything during midnight hours: a new band, some politician’s latest bullshit, their big plans. On rare occasions they reminisced.

She missed him. She felt full to bursting with all the things she wanted to tell him. She wished she could ask him what to do about Vision.

She wondered what Vis was doing now. She thought about what Steve said. He held onto those he loved so tenaciously, even as it wounded him and created collateral damage. His single-mindedness both frustrated and inspired her.

As her thoughts eddied around memories of Vision, she heard something. A wordless call echoed in her mind. Following it, stretching her senses, she came upon the jewel of the mindstone, floating in the void. She had never seen it like this before. Shining like a beacon within her own mind. 

Could he be near?

Her question was answered when she returned to herself and opened her eyes. Vision hovered before her, cape billowing, that golden jewel glowing in his face. 

Wanda nearly fell out of her seat. Had she summoned him? With her limited understanding of her own powers, she genuinely couldn’t rule out the possibility.

As he landed, she hissed, “What are you doing here?” She tugged him down to kneel next to her, worried he might be seen.

“I’m here to talk. And to ask you something.”

“How the hell did you find me?”

“I made an educated guess where you might be. It was either here or some remote mountain hermitage. I had to start somewhere. But the strangest thing happened once I entered the airspace. The mindstone... detected you. I followed it here to you.”

He grasped her hand. Her heart sped up. She didn’t remove it.

“But how-?”

“Wanda, I would love nothing more than to hypothesize the cause of this phenomenon with you. But first, I want to talk about something else." He inhaled and exhaled with deliberation. 

"Please tell me why you left.”

"I was trying to do what was best for each of us. Keep myself free. Not stand in your way."

"I understand the first motive. But you didn't ask me if that was what I wanted."

"I thought you wanted to protect the world. You can't do that with me dragging you down, wasting your time."

"But, Wanda, I can't do it without you. I can't go on without you."

She listened mutely.

"I have cared for you since the moment I saw you. Your beauty and magnetic power attracted me from the first. Then I got to know you as a person. You utterly beguiled me."

"Soon, without thinking, I began to take extra care around you. I worried over your gloomy spells. In every skirmish, I watched out for you. I treasured the rare excuse to hold you."

"I always liked how you always had my back," she confessed in return. Vision smiled, pleased.

"And that night I phased in on you in your bed, you awoke me to the yearnings of my own body," he went on, voice dropping low.

"Through you I have come to understand who I am and what I want most. You are the most important person to me." He paused for a breath, then looked directly into her eyes. 

"Wanda, everyone needs a family. I want you to be mine."

The words struck a chord in her. She lost her family. But she had never considered she might rebuild it. Starting with this strange sexy android who meant the world to her.

"Is that what you came here to ask?"

"Yes. Though I had a more specific question in mind. Will you come with me?"

“I- Where?”

“Somewhere we can be together. For long as we can make it last.”

“How, Vis? Isn’t Stark tracking you? Does he know where you are right now?”

“I’ve cut myself off from the network. They can’t find me now.”

She gripped his hand back. “You went rogue?” 

He smiled ruefully. “I suppose I have. I am currently disobeying a direct order to capture you.”

Her grip tightened.

“No, no, Vis, no, you can’t! What if they decide you’re dangerous too? They could imprison you, or worse. The world needs you.” As much as her heart soared to see him, her anxious mind scrambled for logical counter-arguments.

Vision considered her words, absently stroking her wrist with his thumb. It was distracting.

“It is a risk. But I cannot let that fear control me any longer. Or keep me from what I want most.”

He leaned in closer, face inches from hers. She forgot to breathe.

“What do you want, Wanda?” he asked softly.

Steve’s words came back to her. She couldn’t lie to herself. Her thoughts had been with Vision every second they were apart. She wanted this, whatever it was, wherever it led. Maybe something like a family. 

All she had to do was take hold with both hands and hang on, come what may.

Her hands slipped to either side of Vision’s face, pulling him that final distance. His hands moved to clutch her waist, igniting a fire inside her. Against his lips she spoke her heart’s desire.

“I want to go with you.”

Their kiss was a leap into the sea. And it was coming home. It was recalling at last that half-remembered melody. 

Within seconds it grew hungrier. His lips trailed her jawline. She turned her head and guided him down to her neck. Now that he was touching her again, in the flesh, not a dream, her body thrilled with sensation, all that ignored desire roaring forth. She choked off a moan as he dragged his lips right at the point where her neck met her shoulder.

They dragged apart, both heaving breaths. 

“I had intended,” Vision said with difficulty, “for us to set off on our journey as soon as you said yes.” He kissed her lightly. “I’m finding it difficult to find adequate reasoning for the rush.” He kissed her again, deep and foretelling.

“That’s what happens when your dick brain takes over.”

He laughed, slumping against her momentarily. She grinned like an idiot. Then she whispered in his ear. 

“I think we’ve got a little time. As long as we’re quiet.”

In answer he lifted her from her seat and swept through the open door to her room. 

They fell to the bed. Clothes were stripped and flung away. With suppressed moans and mind-to-mind encouragements, they pressed against each other in the dark, relying on touch alone. Desperate to relieve the powerful ache within her, Wanda opened her legs and drew Vision into her. Before he could groan, her lips were on his. They moved together in a rapid rhythm, growing hot and damp with the effort. 

She came like a wall falling down and he tumbled along with her. 

For a few glorious minutes, Wanda could only lay curled in a crescent, her mind empty, body sated, heart full. She needed some space from Vision’s warm body but she reached one hand back to hold one of his.

She was almost asleep when Vision’s groggy murmur woke her. 

“We do need to leave if we’re going to make our flight.”

“Wait, actually?” she asked, the question breaking into a yawn. She rolled over to snuggle closer. She really didn’t want to leave now.

“Yes. Taking off from Nairobi in a five hours, to be precise.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I could just read your mind, you know.”

“Please don’t.”

“Fine.” She kissed him once, just because she could, and slipped from the bed.

Twenty minutes later, she stood on the balcony. Vision, laden with her speedily packed duffel, stepped into a hover. He turned and offered his hand to her. She took it readily, happily. 

Hand in hand they flew off into the night.

> ✧ <

She breathed in the salty air and listened to the cries of seabirds. The sun beat down on her. She could almost hear Pietro loudly complaining about the heat and demanding an ice cream. Her parents conferring on the best route to the beach.

Vision had brought her back here. She had mentioned it once, in passing. But somehow he knew what she didn’t say, what she held secretly within her. This was the place of her happiest memories.

After over a decade, she was back to make new ones.

Her phone buzzed. It was Nat.

_How did you even escape?_

_I can fly remember?_

The thinking bubble blinked for a full minute.

_I have three rules._

_1\. Check in every day by 8 pm._

_k_

_2\. Call me at the first sign of trouble._

_k_

_3\. Use protection._

_oh my god goodbye_

Wanda heard Vision come up behind her. “Ours is the one with the wooden paneling. Over there.” He touched the small of her back as he pointed. She suppressed a pleasant shiver. 

They set off for their sailboat, looking for all the world like a pair of honeymooners. Vision, in human form, wore a light blue silk button-down over cream slacks. She wore black jean shorts topped by that cute red bustier she got in Paris. Vision had tucked a sprig of bougainvillea behind her ear.

That mission had been only a few weeks ago. So much had changed since she ran into Vision in that Parisian alley.

The sailboat looked sleek and expensive. It was designed for two people. Perfect for meandering along the rocky coastline of Croatia. Away from the clamoring thoughts of people. Away from a world on the hunt for them.

Wanda was so excited she felt she could burst.

They boarded the boat and took their bags down to the cabin. 

With the help of a friendly dockhand, they disembarked.

“So when did you learn how to sail?” she asked as they motored along, moving further out into open water. Vision set to work unraveling the sail.

“Well, I’ve never done it before. But I downloaded a manual," he said with utter nonchalance.

“We are definitely going to sink.”

“We will not! You can keep us afloat in the worst case, after all.” He threw a sly grin at her. Her stomach flipped.

After she helped Vision ready the sails to catch the wind, they turned off the engine and sat facing each other on the narrow benches of the stern. Vision’s hand held the till in readiness but he was looking at her, faintly concerned. 

“Do you like it?”

“Yes-”

“Because if you don’t, I quite understand. It was just an idea and we don’t-“

“Vis, I love it.”

He grinned.

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, are you ready to try this?” 

She heard everything held within that word “this”. Sailing. Leaving the world behind. Being together. Opening themselves to the possibilities of what that might bring.

“I am.”

The sails unfurled. They set forth.

> ✧ <

_you don't have to say you love me_   
_you don't have to say nothing_   
_you don't have to say you're mine_   
_honey_   
_i'd walk through fire for you_   
_just let me adore you_

> ✧ <

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then nothing else bad ever happened to them, that's it, that's the end.
> 
> i'm not holding out the highest of hopes for this WandaVision show but i am definitely going to watch and see how much of this story gets debunked by canon lol
> 
> anyway yaaaay it's done! first thing i've written in a long AND the first novel-length project i've ever attempted (and completed)! hope you all enjoyed the story and hope that it provided some welcome distraction from this trash fire of a year we're having!
> 
> plz keep an eye out early next year for my upcoming AU project with these two

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! And if you'd like to be a beta reader for my next WandaVis project, please DM me. :)


End file.
